Not On My Watch
by alopecia
Summary: Ryan vows to help the Cohens through some troubling times. AU, mild cursing. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Crazy, intense focus - really become one with the genre - that's why we limit our memberships to comic book club this semester. We can always reassess over Chrismukkah break, right?"

Ryan unlocked and stepped through the front door. He took back his 'Weights and Pulleys' project he was working on for Physics class that Seth held, but didn't bother to reply to the question. The majority of Seth's questions were rhetorical anyways. Ryan led the way into the kitchen and stopped abruptly when he saw Kirsten and Sandy. Seth crashed into Ryan's back.

"Moshing in my own house. How cool is th-"

Kirsten was leaning against the stove, her arms crossed, staring vacantly out the window. Her normally nicely styled hair was flat, pushed behind her ears. Neither she nor Sandy had bothered to turn on a light in the fading sun, but Ryan could make out that Kirsten's face and eyes were puffy from crying. Sandy sat defeated, his forearms resting on the island countertop with his head slumped over. He wore a rumpled dress shirt with the tie pulled loose. Neither Kirsten nor Sandy moved or spoke.

Ryan cleared his throat softly.

Sandy nodded his head back and forth but didn't meet either of the boys' eyes. "Hey guys," Sandy said with a false voice.

Kirsten turned her back to them, blew her nose quietly, and wiped her eyes. She twisted the handkerchief in her hands a few times before tucking it in her pocket. She went to Sandy and cupped her hands over one of his. "Okay, Sandy. Just what we're sure of," Kirsten said quietly, looking down.

Sandy pulled at his already loose tie with his free hand. "You know about the DA's case against Caleb. There have been some complications..." Sandy's voice trailed off.

Seth let his backpack slide off onto the floor. He asked stunned, "So Grampa really is getting away for some confined T and T?"

Kirsten said softly, "He's going to jail."

Seth let out a breath that could just be heard. "Holy Harsh Judge Hachett episode. How long?"

"Probably a year." Sandy looked at Kirsten again, and she nodded in acquiesce and started crying silently. "Your mom has been implicated by association."

Ryan stopped breathing. His lost all sensation to his arms and dropped his project. Fishing lines, ball bearings, and sinkers came off their pulleys, clattering over the kitchen floor. He stared at them stupidly for a moment before lifting his book bag over his head and scrambling to his knees to round things up.

No one reacted to Ryan's mishap; the only sound the next minute was Ryan sweeping the parts back into the demonstration box. He left it against the wall next to his bag and stood up, casting concerned, furtive glances at Sandy and Kirsten.

Seth stared at his mother with wide, frightened eyes. "Will you …?"

Sandy answered for her. "No, that's crazy talk. We are going to repay the city what it thinks Caleb has cost them in overbids from shady dealings. She won't have to go anywhere."

"Yeah, yeah," Seth repeated trance-like. "Okay then, we'll just do that. No problem, no more mint condition first edition comic books for me, or lobster dinners for you, Ryan. I can grill. Mom, easy on the spa weekends and yogalates classes." Seth paced the length of the kitchen, continuing to list budget saving steps they could take. "No more pudding packs, we can make the same from powder for a tenth the cost, we'll take the bus, burn newspapers for heat." His list got more fantastic and gestures more frantic until Kirsten stopped him; she put a hand out and touched him lightly on the elbow.

"Sorry, Mom. Nothing serious has ever happened to me – our family - I don't know how I'm supposed to act." Seth sat heavily on a stool. The room fell quiet again.

Sandy said, "Just be yourself; we'll all be fine. We haven't figured out all the details. Let's sit down and go through a few things." He pulled out a stool for Kristen. He pushed two empty wine glasses away, and slid his note pad closer.

"Where will Mom work? Will we still go to Harbor? W-what …" Seth sputtered.

The sun had set and the room was darker now. Ryan picked up Seth's bag and put it out of the way near his stuff. He pointed to the light switch. "Should I?"

Sandy nodded, and the light flooded the room exposing everyone's grim and tense faces. Ryan sat next to Seth, opposite Kirsten and Sandy.

"Yes, of course, Harbor. Education is top priority, and all your friends are there. We'll try to make this as painless as possible, but we'll all have to make sacrifices. It's just a short-term cash flow issue, until I'm back to work in a private firm. I've sold my soul before, I can find the few pieces left and do it again," Sandy said dully.

"I'm taking a leave of absence while we work things out at The Newport Group," Kirsten said. The kettle whistled and she stood up and got out a couple of mugs and tea bags.

Sandy said, "We're going to move out and rent this house."

"No!" Seth yelled. "No. No. I asked before and you said **that** was crazy talk. What other crazy talk is not so crazy?" His eyes challenged Sandy angrily. "Is-Mom-going-to-jail?" Seth paused between words for emphasis.

Sandy stared right back. "No. I'm sorry I spoke too quickly about the house last time. I was wrong before, but this I know: Your mother is going nowhere."

Kirsten returned with two mugs of tea. "He's right, Seth. The DA's office is playing some stupid games to pressure Grandpa, but we'll straighten it all out." She motioned with the mugs to ask who wanted one, but everyone shook their heads no.

"Where will we live?" Seth's plaintive voice cracked at the end.

"The Newport Group has a few minor residential properties. We'll live in a nice house … in the numbered streets."

Ryan and Seth both sat taller, shocked. "What about the monster mansion?" Seth asked. "We can all fit in the grotto."

"It's in Julie's name, but they'll probably have to sell eventually," Kirsten said.

"I know this is all happening fast. But it will be just like our Berkeley days. A chance to simplify our lives, find out what's important. Get to know each other better. It won't be all bad. Right?" Sandy's painfully cheerful voice fell flat.

"Umm, would you take away my merit badge if I said yes?"

"You've never earned a merit badge in your life," Sandy joked.

"I will if I survive the numbered streets."

Sandy laughed a little too hard, and even Kirsten smiled tightly.

"Okay, let's get on with dinner." Sandy stood up to get the take-out menus. He casually put his hand on Ryan's shoulder and Seth's head as he passed by them. "So what's T and T?"

"Tennis and Tivo, Daddy-O."

Kirsten opened the refrigerator and listed the beverages available. "Hmm, a nice white I forgot about. I'm not a tea person anyways. Would you open it, Sandy?"

Sandy took the bottle from her. "Honey, we're working our way down to the Manischewitz tonight. Not that I'm complaining; The Manischewitz always made us frisky." They laughed together, but Kirsten's eyes teared up again and she left to use the bathroom. Sandy went to the new bar to find a corkscrew.

"Okay, the everything-is-normal-even-though-it-isn't act is one way to cope." Seth shrugged and opened the drawer for silverware. "Maybe it won't be so bad. Finally your chance to show me a 'hood."

Kirsten returned and they argued menu choices. Ryan numbly went along with everyone trying to act naturally doing their dinner routines; he even smiled and nodded at the right times to their banter. His legs somehow managed to find their way to the napkins, and his hands folded them up like he did most nights. He made his way into the dining room with them.

Around the corner, he leaned against a wall with his eyes closed and breathed deeply. He sank to the floor and balled up the napkins in his fists. His head fell to his knees. He vowed: this time, on his watch, the Cohens would be all right. He would not lose another family to money problems, crappy neighborhoods, and jail again.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Tbc.

I need a beta if anyone is interested in this story. Email me, please.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ryan needed to leave for his first shift back at the Crab Shack. He had his bag over his shoulder, ready to go, but paused at the door. The room drew him back. It might be a long while before he would be in the pool house again, if ever. The movers had started in the house a half hour ago.

He circled the dozen or so cardboard boxes that made up his life in the pool house. Stuff had certainly added up from his modest duffle bag he brought here over a year ago. Large boxes were for lightweight items like his billion thread count sheets, his designer comforter, and his rapidly expanding wardrobe. Smaller boxes held his books, sports gear, and other sundries. The boxes and a few small pieces of furniture were all labeled with his name on stickers the movers had provided.

Ryan wasn't one to be sentimental but the pool house was definitely special. It had taken him in when he had nowhere to go, a place safe from A.J. and the chaos that surrounded his mom. The pool house was the first space of his own, but it was unquestionably a part of the Cohen home. He smiled. The Cohens' unexpected appearances when he came out of the bathroom would be remembered with fondness, or at least mostly with fondness.

A chair and side tables, slated for storage, were set to one side. Ryan rested his hands on the chair Sandy sat in when he calmly lectured Ryan after illegally tackling Luke on the soccer field. Ryan remembered how nervous he was after getting into trouble for the first time; screams and fists were what he had known. Ryan had come a long way with the Cohens; he owed them so much.

Kirsten's visits came with excuses like wanting to know whether he needed clothes or was hungry, and Ryan was proud to have earned her quiet concern. His double bed that she caught him making out with Marissa in – a less proud moment - was at first deemed too big for the new house. But Ryan protested it didn't make sense to spend money on a new twin bed if the idea of moving was to save money.

It had been the good life here, but life would still be luxurious in the numbered streets. For him, anyways. It was relative. He had learned any shit hole could be fine if Dad was feeling good and Mom was off the sauce. But the Cohens weren't used to budgeting. All week the Cohens had been alternating between moping sadly and talking excitedly about the new adventure. Ryan worried they didn't know what they were getting into. They weren't materialistic in the greedy sense, but money was a hard habit to break. They always bought the latest video games, the newest styles in clothes, or expensive dinners without a thought. He had seen what not having money did to his family. Would not having an _infinite_ supply of money do the same to the Cohens? Ryan frowned and rubbed his neck, not liking where those thoughts led. Besides, he would help his new family in ways he couldn't when he was younger.

Ryan's eye caught on his physics project in the corner with the trash. He crouched down, picked up a ball bearing and tossed it in his hand. It had only been a week ago that Sandy made the announcement that they were moving, but Ryan was already looking back at time for extra science experiments as an extravagance. Sandy had okayed his job at the Shack. But Ryan hadn't mention that he would be taking all the shifts he could get. He refused to be a complete sponge on the Cohen's finances, so even if his contributions were small he would make them.

He sighed, lobbed the ball back into the trash, and turned to head for the main house.

He entered to find it busy with movers. They had already cleared out the den, and two men were working on the kitchen. They nodded to Ryan who nodded back. Ryan skirted around the workers, boxes, and wrapped up furniture looking for a Cohen without luck. He headed upstairs so he could let them know he was headed out.

"Hey, Ryan," Kirsten said. She passed him in the hallway with a harried Sandy following close behind her. He nodded absently at Ryan.

"He just wants to see you and Seth, then he'll release the papers that might help to clear you of this whole thing. Why make this hard?"

Kirsten wheeled on him. "Why should I ever see him?" she asked angrily. "He betrayed me and put me at risk for jail. Jail, Sandy! Don't you see? My dad."

"Honey, we need to be practical. This deal is a gift; we can't take it for granted. Our cards are already maxed. Your dad just wants to see his daughter and grandson before he has to go away. Then he'll do what we want."

"What we want is for him to have not bribed city officials for the last umpteen years. What we want is for him to think of us over his greed, not blackmail us. It's the principle, Sandy," Kirsten said stubbornly.

"Fine. I have to leave for work. I guess it's okay for me to sell my principles." Sandy walked quickly down the stairs without looking back.

Kirsten turned to Ryan with apologetic eyes.

He dropped his gaze. "I'm going to work the early shift at the Crab Shack. Unless you need help here?" He couldn't really be choosey about which shifts he got since he was the new guy again, but Kirsten didn't know that.

"Okay, Ryan." Then Kirsten paused as she put some of the last towels from the closet into a box. "You got a job?"

Ryan frowned. "Yeah, I talked to you guys about it a few nights ago. Remember?"

"Oh, that's right. It's been a little hectic lately. See if you can prod Seth along, would you?"

Ryan nodded and lifted his hand goodbye, but Kirsten had already turned back to packing.

Ryan stood there a bit surprised, a sinking feeling in his stomach. She had been so adamant about him quitting the Crab Shack last year, lecturing him about the importance of school. And now she forgot he got his old job back.

"This was the most perfect closet," she said absently. "I had these shelves custom built, a place for every towel, sheet, blanket. It's stupid but I'm going to miss it." Kirsten shook her head regretfully.

Ryan nodded again, this time slowly, his hand still held up uselessly in the air, but he didn't think Kirsten noticed. Between the court case, being forced out of The Newport Group, and moving from her home of more than ten years, Kirsten was under a lot of stress and shouldn't be bothered about his details. He mentally kicked himself for thinking differently.

He went to Seth's room. The door was open, and Ryan rapped on Seth's wall before entering. There was a confusion of packing material, boxes, and Seth's things all over the floor.

"Hey, man. I'm going to work. Maybe you could pick me up at three?"

Seth bobbed his head acknowledging Ryan, but continued to stare mournfully at the piles of books, comics, and CDs spread around him.

"Ryan, how did you manage with the quota of boxes?"

"Quota?"

Seth's looked up with interest. "Mom didn't say anything to you about the number of boxes you could have?"

"She saw what I had."

Seth threw his head back and cackled like a fiendish villain from an old movie.

"Seth, I gotta jet."

"Okay. That's 'Ryan' in all caps, right?" Seth had stopped choosing between which comics to pack and began to pack them all.

Ryan held his hand up and was ignored for the second time that day. He shook himself out of these thoughts. He remembered how affect he had been moving to Chino from Fresno. The Cohens were going through a lot.

Xxxxxxxxx

Author's note: A 'Thanks' goes to Molly4 for giving this the once over.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ryan looked at the slip of paper again to make sure he had the right place. This house had seen better days; it had weeds for a lawn, and only the faintest coat of paint on its stucco facade. And yet he hoped it was the right house because it was a lovely1930s California bungalow. The gable that hung over the wide front porch was supported by distinctive heavy posts, each easily two feet wide at their bases and tapered at their tops. Since he had read about them in an architecture book, he had wanted to see one up close.

The ten miles from the Crab Shack were long, but the route wasn't as steep as the ride to the old Cohen house. The house, about three blocks from a main commercial road, was in a working class part of town. After a year of living in a home with a maid, an ocean view, and a pool house, Ryan saw things differently. At Theresa's last summer, he noticed the trashy yards, the noisy kids, and the people drinking and hanging out in the front of the house. Things he never thought twice about because he they were always there. This neighborhood wasn't the worst he had lived in, yet he couldn't imagine the Cohens here. The Cohens, especially Kirsten and Seth, had never lived somewhere like this, and he worried about how the place seemed to them.

Ryan wheeled his bike through the weedy lawn and up onto the porch. He locked his chain through the bike wheel and frame but knew he needed a better system for the night.

He knocked, but the door was unlocked. He opened it to enter directly into the living room. Seth was lying on the sofa that seemed too large for the small room. His body moved to music only he heard on headphones.

Ryan slammed the door.

Seth sat up quickly and bent to the nearest box. "No luck in this box either, Mom." He turned his head. "Oh, hey, Ryan. Just in time for the heavy lifting." He looked at the stacks of boxes lined against the fireplace.

"Sorry. I got here as quickly as I could but it was a madhouse at the Crab Shack. I guess you couldn't get away to pick me up?"

"Oh, yeah… It's mad here." Seth's hands pawed the air and he sniffed the air. "We're like rats in a small cage. I think Mom is crying over a closet upstairs."

Ryan stretched his back. It had been a busy shift followed by a long bike ride. "Give me the grand tour."

"You can see most of it from where you stand. A microscopic kitchen is behind this dingy dining alcove – I use the word 'alcove' loosely." Seth stepped through an archway to the dining area.

Ryan inspected everything eagerly, craning his neck to see the simple wooden trim and crouching down to touch the furniture. He explained as he went along. "These bungalows have most of the living spaces on one floor. We're lucky this has an upstairs. And see how there are built-in features like this bookshelf?" Ryan scratched the shelf with the edge of a quarter. "Wow, I think it's maple under this paint. They thought to make the most of small spaces - no hallways, one room opens into the next."

Seth looked bored as Ryan walked into the kitchen. Boxes were partly unpacked, and there were some plates sitting in an open cabinet. The old Formica laminate countertop was worn through in a number of spots. The oven was one of the worst he'd seen, and the walls were filthy. But the wooden floors were remarkably well preserved, and a coat of paint would be easy. He turned on the stovetop and lights. They worked. "Too bad the fixtures aren't originals, and some of the trim is missing. But it's cozy," he said.

Seth complained, "Cozy? How many euphemisms are there for tiny?"

"I've been in much, much worse."

"Merit badge for you," Seth murmured. He walked back to the living room and pointed to two doors to the left of the front door. "There are two bedrooms on this floor, shrimp and amoeba sized." They walked past the bedroom doors toward the back of the house. "Mom made me wait for you before moving in."

"Take the bigger. I don't mind."

"Mighty big of you, bro. Most of my stuff is already there. Thanks," Seth said happily.

Kirsten came down the staircase, smiling. She wore jeans and a faded sweatshirt, but still looked too nice to be standing in this shabby home.

"Seth, you're not bullying Ryan into getting the bigger bedroom. I'll think of a number and you guys can guess it," Kirsten said.

"Better idea." Ryan took a quarter from his pocket and tossed it in the air. He caught the quarter, held it covered on the back of his hand, and looked at Seth.

"Primo geniture should be the ruling law here. I am older biologically and have seniority in his family."

"Seth Ezekiel." Kirsten said admonishingly.

"Okay, okay." He glared at them. "Tails." He paused. "No, wait. Heads."

Ryan lifted his hand. "Heads," he read and quickly pocketed the quarter.

Kirsten looked at him suspiciously but didn't say anything. Seth raised his fists in victory.

Ryan and Kirsten ignored him. "Great house. How did you guys get this?"

"The Newport Group gets properties by default sometimes. This is all they have right now. I wish there were more storage space." Kirsten opened the door under the staircase.

"Hey, Ryan." Seth nodded significantly after peeking in the door.

Ryan gave him a questioning look.

"The ultimate, magical Harry Potter experience …"

Ryan glared at Seth. "I'm not sleeping there."

"Kidding. Are we too broke to joke?"

Kirsten added, "If it's a closet, it is magical so it's mine."

"Mom made a not-so-funny."

Kirsten gave him a look and said, "_Mom_ is going to magic wand our elfin kitchen – you're helping me to clean it tomorrow."

"And another not-so-funny. Plus a bonus point for the _small_ euphemism," Seth said as he walked to his new bedroom.

An hour later Ryan had his essentials unpacked. His bed took up most of the space in his room, but it was made. Enough clothes for the next few days were sorted into the small bureau under the window. A wall of unopened boxes still stood in his room. The boxes had Ryan's name on them but they held Seth's things.

He walked beyond the staircase closet to the only full bath in the house. He took a quick shower. The water pressure was good but the temperature was tepid as he finished.

He tiptoed toward to his room, holding a towel wrapped around his waist and his dirty clothes in his other hand.

"Oh!" Kirsten exclaimed on her way to the stairs.

Ryan turned red, ducked his head, and flattened his back to the wall. "Sorry, I ..."

"Right. Get Ryan a robe. This wasn't a problem in the old house," Kirsten said as she scurried past him and up the stairs.

As he put on fresh clothes, he heard particularly mournful music coming out of Seth's room. The walls in this house were thin. He went to Seth's room. It was bigger by a third than his room with windows facing the front and side of the house. Seth's bed was bare, but his stereo system and computer were hooked up. He was in the middle of sorting books.

Ryan leaned against the doorframe. "Seth, you want to do something?"

"Yes. I'd like to sail away in the _Summer's Breeze_. But hey, I did that already. I want to swim in my pool. But wait, strangers are in it." He shook his head glumly. "How about we wake up from this nightmare?"

Ryan sat on the floor and leaned his back against a wall. "I was thinking more like checking out the neighborhood."

"Don't bother, I already did while you were at work."

"Yeah? And?"

"Ryan, it feels weird here. No gates, people can just walk right up to our house," Seth said as if the idea surprised him. He looked away sheepishly. "I don't really remember Berkeley as much as I say."

"It seems like an okay place. I noticed a park nearby. We could play hoops."

"Ryan, white men, especially short and Jewish white men, can't jump. Besides I've reverted to form; another seventeen years as a shut-in begin now."

Ryan looked at him skeptically. "Even if there's a party with crazy honeys?"

Seth sneered. "I'd probably get the Rover trashed again."

Ryan continued, "People here can be cool. Unlike the polo crowd, they fight over money and some fucked-up ideas about honor. But everyone will leave you alone if you leave them alone."

"That's not exactly true."

Ryan raised his eyebrows.

"I was minding my own business in the park… Waxing a bench in the park counts as that, right?" Seth looked up guiltily and continued before Ryan could answer. "What kinda place is this where I can't wax up to practice some board tricks? Two guys came by. I stopped when they told me to." Seth chewed his lip.

Ryan leaned forward attentively. "What did they say exactly? Do you know their names?"

Seth didn't reply to any of the questions. He raised his tee-shirt. A small bruise to his side was green and yellow.

"Damn it, Seth." Ryan closed his eyes for a second to try to stay calm. They were here less than a day and already someone was hurt.

"Starksy and Hutch. No, no names. A tall black guy and a younger white kid. One of them hit me as a way of introduction. Actually, it was more of a punching shove away from the bench than an actual punch. I apologized and explained to him I didn't mean any harm, and they seemed okay. Do you think that's the end of it? Those guys have better things to think about, right?" Seth asked anxiously.

"Yeah," Ryan said with more confidence than he had. "Tell me more about them." Maybe if he got a better description he could tell where those guys were coming from – local guys protecting their turf or if they were affiliated with a known gang.

"I'm not talking about it anymore. I am in denial. I can only handle so much trauma at once. Leaving my crib is enough." Seth poked at this side gingerly. "I thought I could get a fresh start here. Just like I thought middle school would be different from elementary. And high school from middle. Damn, I'm dumb. There are always new sets of rules to learn and I never figured out the first set."

Ryan frowned but he could tell by Seth's posture he was serious about not talking about it. Maybe Seth was right; the guys just wanted Seth to keep off their stuff. "You sailed away on a catamaran last summer. You lived in Portland. You can grill," Ryan pointed out.

"From fancy marina to marina, to my equally upper-middle class friend's house, with Mommy and Daddy's plastic in my pocket. Not that I was a poseur..." Seth stood up and went over to change the music. Another band's song came on that Ryan didn't recognize.

"I confess I kind of liked being upper middle class. I know, you're thinking: _but Seth, you've memorized the Communist Manifesto. Seth you have street cred! You're down with the people,"_ Seth said in a sarcastic, comic voice as if he were tired of the adulations.

Seth drew himself up and pointed a finger into the air. "_Let the ruling classes tremble at a Communistic revolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win. Workers of the world, unite!_"

"I always knew you were a capitalist pig. The speech would be more authentic with a German accent."

"Ryan, I'm like Nemo in the open ocean, E.T. on a strange planet, Alice down the hole. I like me - a lot. I don't know if you know that about me or not. But say goodbye to the old charming Seth. Animals adapt to survive; I'll have to change to make it here. Get the eye of the tiger."

Privately Ryan thought it might be best if he hung around with Seth, showed him a few things, and made sure there weren't any more misunderstandings. "We'll watch out for each other, dude. No worries. Let's just lay low with the skateboard for a while. Besides, I'm still my wonderful, charming self after being in Newport a year, aren't I?" Ryan smiled his most charming smile.

"And now you with a funny? I'm definitely in Wonderland. Wait, here's a perfect song that fits this feeling of not fitting in your this world. If I could only find my Bright Eyes." Seth stopped the music, and flipped through a stack of CDs.

Sandy and Kirsten's voices could be heard upstairs. Sandy must have returned while Ryan was in the shower.

"I don't want to get into it again!" Kirsten's voice was angry. "I'm tired and filthy after cleaning all day."

"Let's trade then. I'll stay home, put away the teacups and sheets while you work a soul-sapping job. I saved a zillionaire a few million today, probably so he can go on to pollute Mother Earth some more."

There was a pause before Sandy continued. "There's no guarantee on what will happen with the D.A.'s case; it's an informal understanding and the judge hasn't blessed anything yet. I have dipped into my well of influence with the D.A too many times for your family. It's dried up. If The Newport Group doesn't hand the records over, there will be a court order demanding them. But it will look better if we cooperate." His voice was pleading.

"Cooperate? We rented out our house. We're living in a shoebox on a shoestring budget. What more do they want?"

"The newspapers are having a field day about government corruption. The D.A. has to make sure he's got all the bad guys or the newspapers will tear them up. And if your dad pisses them off by not cooperating in a timely fashion, they'll smell more blood. Yours."

"Dad will do the right thing, Sandy. I have to believe that." Kirsten's voice was sad now. "We've had this same conversation many times. And now this one is over."

Footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

Sandy called after her. "It could take time to straighten things out even after they hand over the accounting records. They can make it harder for us until then!"

Seth and Ryan looked at each other, worried, as Kirsten passed by their door.

Seth stood up and called to his mom. "Hey, Mom?" He paused and looked to Ryan for something to say.

Ryan shrugged.

Seth called to her in the kitchen, "Umm, are you cooking Mom? You don't want to do that. We don't want you to do that. How about we order from the Crab Shack tonight?"

Kirsten came back from the kitchen into Seth's room, smiling ruefully at Seth's dig at her cooking. Sandy entered more hesitantly behind her. They nodded to each other neutrally in a semi-truce.

Kirsten turned to Seth and Ryan, and tried to smile reassuringly. But Ryan saw that her jaw was locked and her body tensed. His gaze went to her hands that clutched a wine glass. A knot formed in Ryan's stomach. He stared at Kirsten for the familiar signs but had to look away when she looked at him oddly.

Ryan said, "Actually, I don't think we're in the delivery area to the Shack or any of the other restaurants we normally order from."

Kirsten and Seth looked shocked at the idea. Sandy clapped his hands for their attention. "Fancy, over-sauced food? Egh," he shrugged indifferently. "What do we want that for? No matter where you live, there's always good Chinese."

Ryan nodded. "I saw the Hang Chow Restaurant on my ride in, not too far from here. I could go pick it up. I don't think they deliver either."

"I'll drive," said Sandy.

Everyone seemed to agree unenthusiastically to the plan, and it was quiet again.

Kirsten looked around the room. "A little sprucing up and this will look great," Kirsten said brightly.

"Sprucing? I knew my tainted vocabulary came from somewhere." Seth's words were meant to be funny, but they were said quietly, almost sadly. Like everyone, he seemed to be thinking about his parents' argument without mentioning it.

Kirsten brushed Seth's hair back and kissed him on his cheek. "How about we paint your walls a nice taupe?"

"Chrismukkah is only weeks away. Taupe indicates a dangerously low level of holiday cheer on the color-coded holiday alert system, and honestly Mom, we need all the cheer we can muster this year. I prefer that we buy me a Pelican box to fit our diminutive room."

Sandy frowned. "I don't know what that is, but no."

"Okay, then I'll settle for their newest game, Halo 2."

"Actually, we're going to have to talk about your allowances …"

Seth's mouth hung open, surprised. Ryan glared at him, and he recovered and said, "We're all cutting back, sure."

Ryan cleared his throat. "I'm set with this job at the Crab Shack. I don't need anything."

Sandy and Kirsten looked at each other uncomfortably. Sandy said, "Thanks, Ryan. It's just for a short time." He looked at Seth. "Half rations for a while, kid."

"Yeah. No. That's good. Too bad I don't have a sailboat to sell or bar mitzvah money…" Then he offered unenthusiastically, "Maybe I can get my old job back at the Bait Shop."

Nobody spoke. The idea that Seth might **need** to work was scary.

Sandy cleared his throat and said, "Look, this year's dreidel winnings are slim, we all know that. But I also know we'll manage with some sacrifices." Seth looked up more frightened after Sandy's words. Ryan sat very still and stared at his hands. "Let's think of this as opportunity to grow, find out what's outside that Newport bubble. We might have moved out even without the D.A.'s case."

There was still no reaction, and Sandy said in a raspy voice, "I quote from Hard to Kill: _We're out gunned and under manned, but ya know somethin' - We're gonna win, and I'll tell you why. Superior attitude, superior state of mind_."

Kirsten laughed. Seth smirked, "Dad, it's bad enough without the Steven Segal impressions. And we don't have any guns or superior anything."

Ryan couldn't stop a smile, and stole a glance at Kirsten. Her wine glass was empty. His heart stopped and his face tightened. She noticed his hard gaze and looked at him.

"Ryan, you found your old choker? And I haven't seen your leather wrist cuff in a while," she said.

"I thought … yeah, I found them while packing," Ryan said haltingly.

"Jesus and Moses, are we that desperate? The numbered streets call for the big guns, huh? I definitely need the Chino choker and the tough cuff, too." Seth asked.

Kirsten laughed, "One look at this place and I think we'll all need them." Sandy went to her and rubbed her back. She leaned into him.

Ryan glared but they just pulled him up onto his feet and into their hug.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A bureau drawer slammed shut. Sandy's voice rose in anger and was met by Kirsten's. Ryan turned over onto his back, listening carefully, but couldn't make out the words to their muffled exchanges. Footsteps stomped across the upstairs room, and then it was quiet. Ryan held his breath, waiting. The quiet did nothing to relieve the tension.

Ryan looked at his clock, almost 9 am. It was late to be in bed even on a Saturday; there were things to do.

He heard Kirsten make her way quickly down the stairs and through the house, slamming the front door.

Ryan scrambled out of bed. He met Seth, sleepy and confused, at the door. Together they found Kirsten on the porch, an arm leaning against a banister, taking in shaky breaths of air. She turned to them looking sad and tired.

Sandy ran up to the group a moment later, unshaven and haggard. He put a hand out to Kirsten, but she closed her eyes and turned away slightly. Sandy gasped, and seemed bewildered. Realizing Ryan and Seth were witnessing the scene he said, "Your mom and I are going out, but we'll be back by noon when the buyer comes. Will you have time to change the oil, Ryan?" Sandy asked apologetically.

Ryan nodded solemnly. "I'll take care of it."

"Mom?" Seth said ignoring Sandy and Ryan.

Kirsten managed a fragile smile before nodding reassuringly and walking to the car.

Sandy took a deep breath. "Your mom and I need to talk. The house is lacks privacy."

"_Lacks privacy_, haha," Seth laughed sullenly.

"You're upset over lots of things. Let's talk later."

"You are the talking guy. Got it." Seth looked beyond Sandy to Kirsten who was sitting in the car with her head lowered.

Sandy sighed, shaking his head, and followed Kirsten. Ryan and Seth stood on the porch, watching Sandy back out the Rover and drive away.

Ryan opened his mouth to say something comforting to an ashen Seth. Seth raised his hand to stop him. He turned and went back into his room without a word.

Ryan considered going after him, but didn't know what he would say if he did. Words were never his specialty.

Putting on clothes in his room, a rhythmic thumping began; Seth was throwing a ball against their common wall again. Ignoring it, he went down the hall to take a leak, but on the way back he passed his room to enter Seth's.

Seth was sitting up in middle of his bed, his back against a wall, Captain Oats perched in his lap.

"So, about what happened …"

Seth threw the rubber ball against the wall. It bounced in the only patch of cleared floor before being caught. "No," Seth interrupted.

"Should I close the door and give you and the Captain some privacy then?" Ryan asked, making his way around neat stacks of books and CDs spread over the floor. He sat at the foot of Seth's bed.

Seth smirked. "Can't a guy brood in private?"

"You thumped," Ryan protested.

"And keep the door open. I barely get enough air in this cell as it is."

"Claustrophobic? The room has two windows you can open and step outside from." But Ryan went and opened the door wider.

"My breakout has to be planned just so." The comment drew a blank on Ryan's face. "Steve McQueen in the Great Escape, or the reasonable update in Chicken Run." He threw the ball again.

"Escape? The door is open. Wanna get some pizza and go Chrismukkah shopping at the nearby mall later?"

"Chrismukkah has been ruined; stolen by the grinch in the D.A.'s office."

"It won't be expensive but we can still celebrate."

"No, better to cancel than have a pale façade. Next year will be beyond ridonckulous when everything is back to normal – and it will be, Ryan. It will be," Seth said with conviction.

Ryan lifted his hands up to show he didn't protest the idea. He was still getting used to the idea that the Cohens had taken him in for the long haul, and he wouldn't have to worry about food and a warm bed anymore. Seth would need time to get used to things here, too.

"Besides, aren't you too busy doing something else?" Seth sulked.

"Seth, I don't get to choose my work hours, and your parents need help around here. Don't be a bitch. I promised we'd hang and this is my first day free."

"I dunno, my first foray into the 'hood since the wax incident with the two Bloods. Or were they Crips?" Seth moved the plastic horse up and down. "The Captain wonders if I shouldn't just continue to be a famous conqueror of the great indoors."

"This place isn't bad – there isn't any gang activity here. You watch too many movies."

"Well, I've been busy – cataloging." He waved at the ordered stacks. "I wasn't scared or anything like that," he scoffed.

"Good."

"Really? You think it's safe, huh." He nodded his head in growing agreement. "I knew that." Seth swung his feet onto the floor. "Watch out, numbered streets, Seth Cohen is in the house. I'm going back to the park." He pretended to ride a skateboard, his hands waved the air to balance himself.

"Wait, Seth, let me go with you. But first I need help changing the Beemer's oil for your dad. I already bought the oil and filter." Seth frowned at the suggestion, and Ryan quickly added, "It's something a numbered street guys would know."

"Hmm, appealing to my masculine insecurities. Not as good as Jewish guilt, but it works." He got up and opened a drawer to find it empty. "Damn, I'm out."

"You might try doing some laundry. It's been a week since we moved here – you've got to learn sometime."

Seth sighed melodramatically, and went to his closet and pulled on jeans out of a laundry basket heaped full of dirty clothes. "Do you think Rosa misses us?"

"Oh, yeah. Who won't want to go through rich peoples' dirty underwear?"

"Upper middle class," Seth murmured.

Seth went into Ryan's room and opened a drawer of perfectly folded tee-shirts and wife beaters. Seth stripped off his shirt, tossed it into the basket, and put on one of Ryan's wife beaters. "I can't grease up the vintage wear."

"Why not a tee-shirt?"

Seth sneered. "I'm keeping it real."

Ryan rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. Some battles weren't worth fighting. He led the way through the kitchen to a room that was used as a shed and laundry room. It was an ugly addition in the back of the house to the otherwise lovely home, but Ryan had to admit the added space was needed for all of the Cohens' things. Surfboards, golf clubs, gym mats, and tool chests were piled next to boxes of clothes and household goods.

Ryan talked Seth through the intricacies of laundering clothes; the water temperature, soap amount, sorting colors, and load capacity.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it; it's not brain surgery. Pedantic much?"

"You've never washed clothes before and I don't want you to break the machines."

"No, Ryan. And I don't do power tools or cars either. But in defense of my manliness, I point out that last spring I had two girls, sailed part of the way to the Pacific Northwest, and was scion to the man who built Newport," Seth said. "I can still grill but I'm a shadow of my former self…"

"I liked selfish Seth better than pitiful Seth." Ryan ignored Seth's twisted face and walked over to the automotive tool chest, a 5-foot wide, heavy duty, stamped steel, tool cart on 4-inch caster wheels.

Ryan smiled like a kid in a candy shop. "Check this out, man. I still can't believe it - brand new top-of-the-line everything. Allen wrenches, pliers, vice Grips, extra short combination wrenches," Ryan said opening each drawer and listing its contents, "feeler gauges, sparkplug gapers, screw drivers, drive sockets, ratchets, extensions, torque wrenches and breaker bars, and even some power tools. A few things I don't recognize."

Barely looking at the goods, Seth said, "I can take criticism. Nobody ever said Seth couldn't take criticism. Pitiful, huh? Good of you to call me on that, bro. No, really."

"What are you guys doing with this stuff if you never worked on your own cars?" There were also unused woodworking tools in another chest.

Seth shrugged. "Pitiful Seth wouldn't attract Alex, but Numbered Street Seth will."

They went to the kitchen. It was a galley style kitchen with rows of cabinet against both sides of the walls ending in a refrigerator in one corner. The door to the addition was awkwardly set at the end of the galley. Ryan began to make coffee. He turned to get the cream out of the refrigerator. Seth was in the way.

"Oh, sorry." Seth stepped aside.

"You gonna ask her out?"

"And do what? On half-rations I'm broke. I can't concentrate on the ladies right now with the way things are at home." Seth sat uncomfortably on the countertop, the wall cabinets hung low so he had to hunch forward. "With what I have I think we should chip in and get something nice for Mom," Seth said seriously, "Not Goonies nice, but maybe chocolates with those nuts she likes. Not for Chrismukkah, but to make things better."

Finding the cream, Ryan turned to the coffee machine on the counter, but Seth was in the way again. Seth hopped off the counter and they shuffled around each other.

"Gawd, this kitchen sucks. How are we supposed to kvetch over kibbles and coffee?"

Ryan frowned. "You mean buy something for her she really wants, and not what you like."

Seth smirked and moved to the doorway of the dining room. "They fought before, but I've never seen her this flipped out, Ryan. This is my hernia operation times a million. Dad's out of it, too, but I think getting chocolates for your dad is minty. Maybe you can pull it off."

"They fought this morning, but they talked right after. That's a new concept - for an Atwood, anyways."

"You really think so, or are you trying to make me feel better?" Seth asked uncertainly. "I'm gonna tell 'em this has got to stop. It's freaking me out."

"Trust me, it doesn't work like that. They're going to do what they're going to do. The best thing you can do is to not add to their troubles."

"Trouble?" Seth scratched his head. "I've never thought of myself as trouble. I mean isn't it their job to make it all better for me?"

"Grow up, Seth," he said handing Seth a mug of coffee and box of cereal. Ryan followed him into the dining room with a jug of milk, bowls, and spoons.

"Self-absorbed Seth was all an act. Deep down I'm all about being trouble-free Seth." Seth shook his head. "I never thought getting my wish to leave Newport's bubble would suck so much. Look at this," he said tapping the cereal box, "generic! No more Captain Crunch. It's Lieutenant Lumpy for us – how sad is that?"

"Beats nothing by a long shot," Ryan mumbled.

Seth looked up into the vague distance. "We're gonna to fix it. You and me, Ryan – an unstoppable pair. We conquered Newport, now it's the Numbered Streets. First we blackmail the D.A., force Gramps to do what Dad wants and not do what Mom doesn't want. Then, we start a comic – about a ultra awesome guy who fights crime in the 'hood getting around on his skateboard." Ryan frowned. "Okay, that may need some work, but it sweeps the nation, and we make enough to move to a normal house."

Ryan held back his thought that this was a normal house. He shook his head and said, "Let's start by changing the car oil this morning."

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An house or so later, Ryan was poking under the hood of the Beemer. It was a little foreign to him; many of its components were electronic. But Ryan enjoyed being under the hood again. He felt a twinge of guilt enjoying himself when the Cohens were having a hard time adjusting.

Ryan put the dipstick back. "Run the car a few minutes, Seth. Warms the oil so it will flow more freely," Ryan explained.

"Uber-fix-it-Seth is on it." He started the car, and tapped the horn. "Sorry, sorry. Just testing," he said as Ryan leaped away and glared at him.

They put the car up on jacks, setting some spare tires under the engine for added protection, and chocking the wheels carefully. Letting Seth use the creeper, Ryan crawled under the car with him and pointed out the oil pan and filter. He talked Seth through unscrewing the drain plug with the socket wrench.

"Hey, Ryan. We have visitors." Seth gestured to two pairs of small feet.

Ryan heard some giggling and whispers.

"Gawd, this can't be healthy," Seth said placing the basin under the plug to catch the spent oil. He and Seth slid out from under the car.

Ryan and Seth stared at the two girls, a young black girl and a light-skinned toddler, who stared back.

"Who you?" the older girl asked curiously.

Ryan stared at the questioner who seemed to be about eight, and dressed in pink hearts. Her tee-shirt had them, her jeans had them, and she carried a heart-shaped purse.

"Ryan. You?"

"I's Yvelise and she be Baby." Baby was no more than a year and a half old, with a beautiful olive complexion. She was dressed in little boys' hand me downs, but there was no mistaking her for a boy. Her sandy colored curly hair was pinned back with barrettes, and showed off her big eyes. She waved shyly before she hid behind Yvelise. Ryan's heart skipped; she was adorable.

"I's Seth," Seth said in a voice that sounded tickled to be trying out newly learned grammar.

Ryan pulled his eyes away from Baby and nodded at the older girl. She launched into questions - where he was from – he said Chino, to what he was doing – working on the car. Ryan answered the questions he wanted to answer.

Yvelise hoisted Baby onto a slim hip and looked over the tool cart.

Seth tried to get into the conversation again and repeated slowly as if he were speaking a foreign language, "I's Seth, and heartless." He waved at his clothes.

Yvelise looked at him and smiled, amused. She seemed satisfied with Ryan's answers and her inspection and they darted off without another word.

Ryan stood still, staring after Baby.

"I noticed a lot of kids around and could offer skateboarding lessons for some cash." Ryan didn't move. "Maybe we could set up a camp, use these tools to build a ramp…" Seth grew impatient for a reply and threw a box of rags at Ryan.

It hit Ryan on the shoulder and fell to the ground. Ryan scowled, picked it up, and threw it back. "What did you say?" Ryan asked.

Seth rubbed his chest where the box hit him. "Lots of kids, I said."

Ryan nodded and turned to the tool chest. Seth rambled on but Ryan didn't hear him.

"Hey, Ryan. Ryan." Seth had gotten off the stool and tapped him on the shoulder. "You alright? You're being especially broody even for a broody guy."

Ryan shrugged. "Our baby might have looked like that little girl."

Seth's mocking expression vanished. He pulled his lips tight and nodded. "Yeah, **if** it had been your child. I'm really sorry about how that went down… even though I'm glad you came back…" Ryan didn't respond. "You never talk about Theresa and the baby, but you can if you want."

"The baby would have been born around now…" Ryan shook himself. He had enough worries in the present to be dwelling on his past. "Thanks, man." He put away the socket wrench and found the oil filter. He was happy to be back with the Cohens, even in the numbered streets. But their baby would have been beautiful, and he would have loved her without holding back. He would have proven he had risen above his crap childhood, and the baby would never have been in doubt that they were loved and protected.

Seth interrupted his thoughts. "I wonder what they wanted."

"That's how it works. In Fresno, Chino and now here – the little kids check things out first. They report back to the others and they decide if we're worth bothering with or worth bothering."

"Worth bothering?" Seth asked anxiously.

Not answering Seth, he said, "See if the oil is finished draining."

Seth didn't move so Ryan slid under the car and checked the pan. He decided it needed a few more minutes.

A guy walked from the house across the street with Baby in his arms. He was Hispanic, in his early twenties, and the build of a weight lifter.

"Hey," the guy said throwing his chin forward.

Ryan nodded. "Hey."

"Nice ride," he said gesturing to the BMW.

Ryan nodded again.

"I need to work on my Camino," he said gesturing to the car across the street, "and Yve said you were hooked up. Maybe we can work something out. I'm a plumber's helper."

"Yeah, bring it over. We have a buyer coming at noon though."

"No sweat, I just gotta check the points and do the oil."

Seth lifted his hand to his waist in a half wave. "Yo, dog," he said awkwardly.

He looked at him strangely. "Raul and Baby," he said pointing at himself and bouncing the little girl in his arms. "You from Chino?" he asked Seth.

"Who me? Ah, no. That would be my brother, Ryan. I'm Seth." Seth jerked his head to Raul's car. "So you thinking about pimping your ride? Superchargers, flames, spoilers, wings, chrome... Which details are you going to use?"

Raul laughed with a deep chuckle and Baby giggled happily. "Just maintenance today."

Seth persisted and sang with a rap beat, "_So you wanna be a playa? But your wheels ain't fly, You gotta hit us up to get a pimped out ride_." He struck a gangsta pose.

Raul shook his head, bemused. Then his expression changed. "You were the one who messed up the park," he accused.

"No, no. I mean, yes, but no," Seth said no longer so energetic.

"My cousin was there."

Ryan interjected, "They worked it out. Leave it alone, man."

Raul stared coldly, considering. Then he tapped out a cigarette from a pack with his free hand, and offered it to Ryan.

"No, thanks. I'm off the cancer sticks for a year now."

"Just say no, huh?" Raul said. He made the same offer to Seth. When Seth hesitated, Ryan stepped forward and shook his head.

"Okay, Dad," Seth said scowling at Ryan. He took the offered cigarette and lighter. After a fumbled spark, Seth lit his cigarette. "Ah," Seth said as he drew in a breath. He sputtered, leaning over, coughing. "I'm gonna die. My throat."

Raul smiled. "Man, Yvelise was right, you are not right in the head." He turned to leave. "Thanks for helping, man. Usually I go to my uncle's who got the gear, too, but he moved."

"No worries," Ryan said. He waved and smiled shyly at Baby who was staring at him over Raul's shoulder. Raul really shouldn't be smoking near the baby.

Seth turned to Ryan, rolling his tongue around his mouth. "Tell me I did not just sound like a retard - Bobby Brady in the Grand Canyon. Kill me because I did not just do that."

"You want me to lie? What the fuck got into you?"

"Some freak nerd possessed my vocal chords. I get nervous around new people."

Ryan grabbed the cigarette from Seth, and stomped it out with the heel of a boot.

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Author's note: Another hearty Thanks goes to Molly4 who gave this the once over.

This chapter is rambling and nothing dramatic happens, but it wouldn't change from a small moments piece no matter how much I tried. Oh, well…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Oh, Ryan, you shouldn't have," Kirsten gushed. Her hands lightly danced over neatly stacked sheets and towels.

Ryan smiled shyly. He pulled a string and a bulb turned on inside the closet under the stairs.

"Genius," Kirsten said.

The bottom shelf had needed re-sizing, and was propped against the wall. Kneeling, Ryan put it in its place, nudging it with gentle shoves using the heel of his hand so the shelf would sit better. "There was power running through here already," said Ryan shrugging. "I set up a small shop in the back with tools I found in the back room. If I get a couple of routing bits I think I could match the trim that's missing."

"I priced that out with a contractor a few days ago and thought I would have to wait until finances changed," Kirsten said turning red in embarrassment. "Thanks, Ryan."

Not used to staying at home, Kirsten had been working frantically, almost manically, on the house. Home renovation seemed to be her way of dealing with the stress. Her non-stop cleaning, painting, and decorating improved the house, but didn't seem to make her any happier. Ryan felt the tension building, and was helpless to do anything about it. Sandy and Kirsten were now on minimum speaking terms.

"The trim for these houses were purposely designed to be simple so it won't be hard to reproduce." Ryan rubbed his fingers over some edging that needed more sanding. "You're going through a lot and I wanted to help," he said timidly, pretending to study the edging intently.

"It has been hard and you've been a big help with the car, cleaning, fixing things. And now this beautiful custom-built closet," she said. Kirsten opened a cardboard box at her feet to unpack. "I'm so angry with Dad." She stopped and shook her head. "I sorry. I shouldn't be bothering you with my problems. Everyone is going through a lot… because of him," she added bitterly.

She handed Ryan a bulk package of toilet paper. _Bath tissue for the discriminating family, _the logo read. He placed it on the lowest shelf.

"Your dad screwed up, but he didn't do it to hurt you," Ryan offered hesitantly.

Crouching down, she rummaged through the box for other things that might belong in this closet. Her jaw clenched, and she roughly tossed packages of dish sponges aside.

Ryan stared at her growing agitation. "This family is famous for giving second chances to screw ups."

Holding a liter bottle of Kiehl's cucumber shampoo out to Ryan, Kirsten's hand began to shake. It fell to the floor, and Kirsten sat down heavily. "I don't know anything for sure anymore." She rubbed the back of her neck and rolled her head.

"He's probably scared about going away and wants to see you … I wished that I had said goodbye better."

Kirsten sighed. "Oh, Ryan," she said sympathetically. "You never talk about your dad, but I don't think your dad did anything out of pure greed. My dad has, well, had plenty of money. There was no reason to bribe, lie, threaten me."

"I think my dad would do worse if he thought it could help him. He was quite a guy."

Kirsten frowned. "Did you visit? Do you want to visit him? Say a better 'hello' than your 'goodbye' was, maybe?"

Ryan was quiet for some moments. Kirsten put her hand on his to stop him from putting away the shampoo she had dropped, forcing him to look up at her.

He exhaled loudly, pushed the box out of the way, and plopped down next to her, leaning his back against the wall. His legs stuck straight out ending in his signature boots. He stared at them for a few moments before speaking. "A few times in the beginning, we visited. After a while Mom got bored with that. When we moved to Chino, it was too hard to get there."

"And after you came to live with us? We can arrange a trip to Fresno. Do you want that?" Kirsten asked.

Ryan stiffened. "Please don't ask so I don't have to decide. Maybe he's sorry about everything, and he thinks I'm the greatest kid, and wants to get to know me better. But evil forces are stopping us from getting together – sorry, the comic club seeps under the skin." Ryan laughed ruefully and shook his head. "That's a nice dream I can keep, right? Having my mom walk away is enough drama for a while. Honestly, what I remember of him wasn't that great… but he's my dad."

"Okay, then. I forbid you to visit… if that's what you want." Kirsten smiled crookedly.

"Sometimes, but only sometimes, I just want to forget my old family ever happened." Ryan's face was stoic. He crawled closer to the box to resume shelving things.

Kirsten handed him boxes of facial tissue. "God, Ryan, compared to your problems, I'm a selfish brat. Hailey was right about me clinging to Daddy – I'm Charlie Brown to Dad's Lucy. After Uncle Shawnesy and Balboa Heights you would have thought I'd learned." Kirsten shook her head. "You guys must think I'm an idiot."

"Do you think I was wrong to help my mom, each time she fell off the wagon? Time after time she'd promise… So you love your dad and are a little blind to his faults. Now you see more clearly. And now I can see Mom better than when I was standing close enough to smell the gin on her breath."

"You've seen too much for your years. I'm so glad you found us. I'm just sorry things are hard right now."

Ryan's throat was thick. "Theresa used to close her eyes and say if the next car that drove by was red, she would be a millionaire when she grew up. If your dad does what you want, if he hands over the accounting records without a court order, does that mean he loves you unconditionally? And that it was okay that you loved him? Is that what you're doing? Testing him?"

Ryan studied Kirsten intently to see if he was being too blunt. "You won't see him even though it would mean putting this D.A. business behind you. Either you don't trust him to keep his word to release the papers that will get you off the hook, or you don't want him to release the papers. Maybe you are guilty." Ryan laughed.

Kirsten looked up quickly, scared.

Ryan stared back, his eyes opened wide, horrified.

She gasped and shook her head quickly. "No, it's not what you're think. I'm not sure. Did Dad have me sign things when I was too busy or too lazy to read carefully? At the very least I'm guilty of negligence. And I'm afraid to find out." Her voice was a whisper now, her forehead resting on her knees.

"I'm going to help," Ryan proclaimed.

Through a grimace Kirsten smiled at Ryan. "No, but it's time I talked to Sandy."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Our intrepid hero grew up in the privileged world of Oldport Beach. Cast out by evil forces, he earns honor and respect amongst the inland thugs becoming an awesome force to be reckoned with." Seth returned Captain Oats' baleful gaze. "Alright, alright, your honest-eye-ray gets me all the time – mostly our hero is bored and useless. Super Dad is bringing home the George Washingtons, out saving the world from poorly constructed contracts and environmental do-gooders. Super Mom is re-building a house with her bare hands. Together they fend off the Wicked Grandfather. Super Bro, keeping an 'A' average, earns his own spending money, builds custom shelves, and fixes cars in a single bound." Seth rubbed the back of his neck absently. "All the while Super Loser sits here on a lawn chair by a baby pool sunning like a blob of anti-energy."

Captain Oats seemed immune to the Seth's malaise. Seth continued, "Cap'n, we gotta rally out of this introspective self-pity thing. Nobody's peed into our shoes – well, you might not care about that, but we haven't been punched in a long while either. Gramps is going to jail soon, but here in the numbered streets we're getting it together."

Displaying his usual bravado, the Captain floated by danger on a small piece of scrap wood with aplomb. Seth picked the Super Soaker up off his lap, aimed at his faithful horse's hind leg, and pulled the trigger. The waters' force guided the horse slowly around the pool that had a few floating candles shaped like flowers, and a larger flame in the middle of it. "I have confidence we're gonna navigate this new life like champs. If we can pass these testing flames through the nine levels of -"

Seth was interrupted as Kirsten, Sandy and Ryan stepped out onto the patio. Sandy was saying, "C'mon you guys have to let up with the house stuff. Smell the roses, or here in the numbered streets, smell the burnt rubber, the jalapenos on the grill." He pulled a chair out for Kirsten and sat down himself at the patio table. Seth had noticed his mom and dad had stopped fighting in the last few days, and they were back to casual displays of affection designed to embarrass him.

Kirsten smiled wryly at Sandy's quip. She set her design book and a glass of red wine on the table and sat down. In the small yard, the table was set a few feet from the "pool". "Seth, what are you doing? Are those my candles? Is that my chafing fuel?" She pointed at the foot tall flaming sculpture in the middle of the pool.

"Mom, don't say chafing. And that is Pyro who's having a little trouble with his lesson at Mutant School." He squirted water at Pyro, and it sizzled angrily. "I only have a limited supply of cherry bombs so I'm testing new product."

Ryan eagerly went over to look at Seth's set up. "Cherry bombs? Trey and I used to mess with M80s all the time," he said smiling broadly. "Once we …" Ryan stopped mid-sentence as if he suddenly remembered his audience. His eyes darted anxiously to Sandy and Kirsten.

"Ryan, buddy, that was a choice Chino-share. We need to have family circle time more often." Seth squirted Captain Oats, who's tail perilously passed by Pyro.

"You guys are not getting firecrackers," Sandy said with his eyebrows gathered sternly.

"No, I didn't mean… I would never endanger…" Ryan began but couldn't seem to end the sentences.

"Yeah, Ryan, please don't lead an innocent like me down the path of illegal pyrotechnics. Burning down one house wasn't enough?" Seth smiled maliciously, enjoying Ryan's discomfort.

Ryan's eyes narrowed, drilling Seth.

Seth patted Ryan on the shoulder. "Okay, tag. I'm in and you owe me, bro." He turned toward his parents who didn't really seem bothered by Ryan's reminiscences or the brotherly banter. "Drinks poolside, huh?" Seth said with good-natured scorn. "Change it up, guys."

"Don't fix what ain't broke, son." Sandy said taking a long pull from his beer bottle.

It was a nice, warm afternoon. The sun hovered just above the neighbor's roofline, painting the patio with a soft light. The afternoon traffic could be heard in the near distance, kids were shouting and laughing a few houses over, but it was muted enough to be a minor white noise.

Ryan looked at Seth gratefully, and pulled a chair "poolside" opposite Seth. "Let me try." He took over the colorful water gun, immediately sending Captain Oats into a spin.

"Captain Aubrey, you suck and are relieved of command." Seth held his hand out for the Soaker. "Permission to come on deck rescinded."

"I just need to get the feel for Captain Oats' center of mass." Ryan nudged Captain Oats with a short spurt to his nose.

Sandy stood up and went over to watch. "Who's Aubrey?"

"Ignore him," Ryan recommended.

"Don't fight type, Ryan. You have to shoot lower or he'll tip over – you call yourself a physic nerd? The notches in the wood and the gum on his hoofs can only do so much," Seth said rebalancing Captain Oats onto his "ship".

"Can I have a go?" Sandy asked. Ryan handed him the squirt gun and backed his chair away. "Just promise to keep it away from the know-it-all, over-eager Ensign Wesley Crusher."

Seth curled his lip in displeasure but didn't reply. "Be careful, Dad, Captain Oats is not some hunk of plastic."

Everyone turned to stared at him. "Okay, so he may be part plastic but he … never mind - they mock what they can not know, Captain."

Amused Kirsten said, "We know how special he is; we were there when you got him. What ever happened to that cute cowboy outfit you had?" To Ryan she said, "He wore that thing all the time."

"Mom, stop." He glared at them both, but they couldn't suppress smirks.

Sandy walked around the four foot diameter pool, slowly weaving the plastic horse around the flames, getting low to the ground when he needed to. "You gotta go nice and easy, like this, see? Nice and easy. Nice and easy. This game might sweep the nation, don't you think? Speaking of which, if you really want Chrismukkah to sweep the nation, this family needs to start thinking about how to celebrate," he said as he continued to guide Captain Oats around the pool.

Seth grimaced. "No, I said I don't want it to sweep the nation; the merchandise is not in full production. Let's skip it this year."

"Christmas, Hanukkah are celebrations of love and family, not consumption. Greedy, mindless consumerism," Kirsten said distastefully, shaking her head.

"Mom, you say that like it's a bad thing," Seth said enjoying a try at annoying her. "I remember a rather long Chrismukkah list last year."

"I can shop with the best of them, but I don't have to." Kirsten defended herself. "We will celebrate," she insisted.

"The car brought in top dollars so we can do a little something. What's it going to be? Let's get a tree tomorrow," Sandy suggested. He handed the Super Soaker back to Ryan and walked behind Kirsten. He rubbed her shoulder for a moment and left his hand resting there. "We have lots to be celebrate. Your mom and I have been on the case, and we are going to visit Caleb tomorrow and work things out."

"Hey, that's great," Ryan said.

Seth chimed in agreeing, "Yeah, that's great. Should we all go?"

"He'd love it," Kirsten said.

"I've got a shift," Ryan said speaking to his boots.

Kirsten and Sandy passed looks but didn't make an issue of Ryan not going.

Kirsten changed the subject. "I decided to try cooking." The guys sent furtive glances to each other. "I can only do so much renovating, and I'm going stir crazy. Don't worry. It's just a simple salad." Her eyes dared them to disagree. She got up with her empty glass and Sandy's bottle, and left for the house.

The guys looked at each other, quietly considering their best strategy.

"I think I'm really thirsty and need to go to the kitchen where dinner is being prepared," Ryan said pushing himself out of the chair.

Seth and Sandy looked relieved. "Yes, you are very thirsty. Best get some liquids in you," Sandy said nodding sagely.

"Dehydration is nothing to be played with," Seth added.

As soon as Ryan left, Sandy spoke seriously. "So Son, I've been busy working at the new job. First time I've been home at a decent hour in a while…"

"No, Father," Seth said emphasizing _father_ sarcastically, "We don't have to do this. I'm fine. Captain Oat's is fine. Off his feed a while, but he's in the pink again."

"Okay, okay. No big talk, but I gotta say I think you're handling this move really well. I'm proud of you."

Seth humored him, nodding agreeably.

"So what have you been doing lately?"

"Yvelise did her first Ollie today." When his dad looked confused he said, "She's the little kid across the street. Raul, the guy who borrowed our tools, won't let me put Baby on a board, but that kid is so ready. I think she's sweet on me."

"That's great. You're getting back into skateboarding. And you've always been good at teaching kids things; you're really patient. We should hit the surf together soon, and I can be the teacher."

"Ah, yeah Dad," Seth said meaning exactly the opposite.

Sandy smiled at the expected rejection. The two sat in companionable silence. They watched Pyro burn down, and Captain Oats float aimlessly.

"Dad, did you give Ryan a pep talk, too?"

Sandy frowned. "I don't really plan these session, Seth. Should I make a point to talk to him?"

"You need someone to get a tree tomorrow, I'm your man."

"Okay. Is there something going on with Ryan that I should know about?" Sandy said not dissuaded from his question.

"No, just want you to know I'm not going to be useless anymore. I'm going to apply for a job during Chrismukkah break, and I'm gonna be in charge of, oh," Seth said rolling his head searching for something, "making grilled lunches for example."

"Lunches? What's this about?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to help out." Seth picked up Captain Oats and began to clean his hooves of gum.

"That's great," Sandy said carefully, leaning forward in his chair to search Seth's face.

"I just want to let you know that I'm not hopeless; I can help out here in the new place, too." Seth struggled with his words.

"Too? As in, in addition to Ryan? Because that's just his way of coping with stress, everyone deals differently. I'll talk to him and make sure he's not over doing it."

Seth pressed his lips together tightly and bobbed his head to acknowledge he heard his dad.

"Talk to me, Seth. Because I don't ever want you to go back to you pretending you're happy, and your mom and I pretending to believe that you're happy. Ryan may have shown us all the way out of that, but it's all us now, Seth."

"Okay, but let me first say I know I'm being really lame when I say this … it's just that everyone is working their ass off. You work at a job you hate to support us, Mom is Hercules making this house livable." Seth glanced at the patio door to see if anyone was coming out and mumbled, "And Ryan does everything perfectly- he's saving our dinner right now. I'm sorry I'm so worthless." Seth snorted, "Unless you include comic relief."

Sandy face drained, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Seth, you are so far off. From the day you were born I have thanked God for you." Seth only looked more miserable. "We've been over-protective again. Okay, I hear you. We didn't want to ask too much, it's a big change from Newport. We've underestimated you, and I'm sorry."

"But that's the point, even if you wanted to ask me to chip in what could I do? You turned to Ryan to sell the car."

"Seth," Sandy protested, "I can't even change the oil. We all offer something different. Don't knock comic relief." Sandy smiled cajolingly. "I get it. Ryan: handy around the house. You: not so much. But that doesn't mean we value you any less. And you know what? It's natural to be jealous of your brother. You're out of practice because Ryan came to us so late, but I absolutely hated your uncle at times; he seemed to be able to do it all. And I'll bet Ryan is jealous of you sometimes, too." Seth lowered his head. "Seth? Thinking these things is normal. Behind your façade of cool egotism is a heart of gold. You're a Cohen, it can't be helped."

Seth snorted again. He sighed, and finally looked up, nodding with resignation. "I will get a job. And this discussion never happened."

"What discussion?" Sandy feigned asking. He hesitated before continuing more seriously, "Promise me you'll come to talk whenever you want."

"Dad," Seth pleaded to be released from the awkward discussion.

Ryan returned a moment later loaded down with sodas, silverware, and napkins. Sensing he was interrupting something important, Ryan stopped abruptly at the table. "Should I …?" he asked.

Sandy said cheerfully, "So how's dinner coming along? Need help? Seth is all about the help tonight."

Seth tried to look casual but ended up looking sad. Ryan gave him an assessing glance, but only said, "Dinners up in ten. The phone rang and Kirsten answered it, so I think I saved the potatoes." He whispered conspiratorially, "I'm not so sure about the green soy salad."

"Soylent Green is people!" Sandy shouted throwing his head back cackling.

Ryan stared at him quizzically. Seth threw his head back and cackled, too, but stopped suddenly and said in a deadpan voice, "I don't get it."

"Let your educations begin, my sons. All will be revealed when we rent the Charlton Heston classic this Christmas: Soylent Green."

He was still laughing when Kirsten came back outside. She sat down slowly. With both hands trembling, she guided her wine glass onto the table. Her face was ghost white.

"Honey?" Sandy stood and went to kneel by her immediately.

"Reporter ... Riviera Magazine… They want a comment on my impending indictment."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ryan drove the Rover as fast as he dared back to the house. After going through the motions of a family dinner under the edict "we won't discuss what we don't know", Seth and he had been sent on a bogus errand for items they knew wouldn't be found in the numbered streets.

"Guys, we need to work. Please, a banana FroYo and Post-It Notes. Your mom thinks better with some sugar, and I'm lost without the yellow stickies."

Ryan had stared hard at Sandy's obvious and patronizing ploy to get rid of them so they could speak privately. All through a dinner where nobody had eaten, his mind had raced, analyzing the scant facts and craving more. Had Caleb set up Kirsten to take a fall? How much information did the DA have? What should he do?

"Sandy, I have to stay, help." Ryan had wanted his voice to sound reasonable and resolute, but his throat had been dry and it had come out like a bleat.

"No arguments," Sandy had replied sternly. Ryan had debated whether to obey or not, pissed at Sandy for not listening. Usually Ryan liked pretending to be a teenager who's biggest worry was getting grounded for missing curfew. But he had never been a normal kid – he had already seen too much to need to be shielded from some hard truths now.

"Don't forget the chocolate sprinkles," Kirsten had added with forced lightness.

Ryan had hesitated, torn between doing what they wanted, and a need to know what Sandy would find out from his old legal colleagues. A glance at Seth's shattered expression had forced Ryan to relent. Seth had needed to get away.

Ryan turned the engine off in front of the house and glanced at Seth in the passenger seat. Getting away hadn't helped; he hadn't said a word during the whole trip.

Seth opened his door and was about to get out when Ryan stopped him. "Hey, Seth?"

Seth looked back neutrally. When Ryan didn't continue, he opened his mouth and made a strangled sound before clearing his throat and asking, "Yeah, what?"

"You okay, man?"

Seth jerked his head and continued his silence. Ryan found himself babbling, "I know things are crazy. I think it's good to get things out. If you want to talk …"

Seth shook his head.

Kirsten might be going to jail, Sandy was pissing him off by treating him like a child, and Seth was eerily quiet. Things were out of control. Ryan waited, hoping Seth would snap out of his daze. Before he had never needed to try to read Seth who had always showed or said exactly what he was thinking, but Seth's face was a tight blank now. Talking had never helped him but a normal Seth was a talking Seth. "Bro, talk to me. I need to know you're good."

Ryan felt bad dropping the B-word for the first time in this way but Seth was scaring him. He had tried before to use the word casually in conversations like Seth did but it had always stuck in his throat. _Brother_ was loaded with memories of Trey getting himself and Ryan into serious trouble. From another person, Ryan might have wondered if he had been waiting for him to call him brother – like Marissa waiting for him to return her declaration of love. But he knew Seth was guileless.

"Your dad will figure it out. Your mom's gonna be fine. It will all work out." Ryan said with as much conviction as he could muster. He undid his seatbelt and looked for a response from Seth. "We're going to go inside to find out it was some kind of mix up. Seriously, man, shit doesn't happen to good people in Newport. Your mom's got your dad and friends. And us. Together we're unstoppable. Right?"

Seth shook his head and his lips pursed in a grimace. "We can't do anything." He sank back into his seat and hung his head a moment. "Mom and Dad treating me like a child I understand, but you? Nobody knows what is going to happen and I don't need you to blow smoke up my ass. Okay?" Seth's eyes narrowed with anger and his face flushed. "Saying it's going to be okay doesn't make it so, so just shut up, Ryan." He slammed the car door getting out.

Ryan quickly followed, and saw Seth was leaning against the car door breathing heavily. He had been surprised by Seth's sudden torrent of words and realized just how true the words were. Ryan didn't know what was going to happen. He was a punk from Chino who couldn't help when he was seven and they took his dad away, and he couldn't help now that he was seventeen.

Ryan approached slowly. "Okay, you're right. We don't know anything. But this time, I'm deciding how we're going to do this part - we're brothers so we're going to get each other through no matter what."

Seth was deathly still staring at the ground, and then he looked up sadly but nodded quickly once.

"Cool, 'cause I can't lose another brother," Ryan said hoarsely. He grabbed Seth and pounded on his back with his fists. Seth seemed surprised at first, but quickly returned the clasp. They quietly walked up to the sidewalk resigned to the dark times ahead, but united.

Seth opened the front door.

"Marty says the D.A. thinks he has a smoking gun," Sandy's voice was heard to say anxiously, "a check with your signature took a circuitous route to end up in a clerk's pocket in the Permitting Department. A clerk who later approved the Newport Group's stadium deal. They believe it is one example of a pattern – of you being more involved with your dad's bribes. They've already subpoenaed and sealed off the files at the Newport Group. I'm calling in all my favors. Samuel Weinstein, the best lawyer in town, will join your team of lawyers."

Kirsten's voice was harder to hear. Ryan and Seth had frozen in the doorway and strained to hear "I have a team? Okay, but whatever Team Kirsten decides to do, we will not compromise you." There was a long pause. "Promise me you won't do anything illegal even if it might mean saving me. The boys will need somebody if I really have to … go away. They are our first priority."

Seth dropped the bag with the frozen yogurt. Ryan picked it up, pushed Seth through the door, and shut the door loudly. Ryan said in a raised voice, "Uh, yeah pudding does sound better than FroYo."

Kirsten and Sandy stood in the archway leading from the living room to the dining room, and cast worried glances to each other.

Ryan feigned dumb. "They didn't have banana so we got you chocolate." Ryan nudged Seth toward them and gave Sandy the office supplies. He headed for the kitchen behind the dining room with the frozen yogurt asking, "What did you find out Sandy?" Ryan's heart pounded as he waited to know whether Sandy would tell them the truth.

Seth was shell-shocked and sat dumbly at the table, inspecting the tablecloth intently. The dining room table had papers spread about it.

Sandy frowned and paced the small dining room. "I don't know everything yet but tomorrow morning we're going in to talk to the DA, clear things up."

Ryan's hand paused as he scooped the frozen yogurt into a bowl. He fought the flush of disappointment churning his stomach and took a deep breath. He opened a drawer and found a spoon. Sandy was wrong to sugarcoat things even if he did it to protect them. The Atwoods had been no Brady Bunch but being blindsided at its disintegration sucked. It wouldn't happen again.

He walked back into the dining room as Kirsten leaned over and kissed Seth on the forehead. "I love you." Seth smiled back wanly. She turned to Sandy. "I'm going to call my dad and enjoy my FroYo upstairs. Thanks, Ryan," she said taking the bowl he offered. She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

Sandy seemed reluctant to let her go, but she was already headed upstairs. He stared at her back a moment before seeming to shake himself back to his task. He looked down at this address book and dialed the phone. There was a pause as he waited for a response. "Hello Jason. Sandy Cohen here. … We go back how long? I don't deserve a heads up?" Sandy asked with his neck bent speaking into the cell phone.

The conversation flowed from Jason for a while. Ryan went back to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and some chocolate pudding - from the cheaper powder - not the ready made pudding packs. He measured out the coffee grounds and set the machine going. Then he mixed some milk with the pudding powder in a bowl, and turned to watch Sandy through the archway.

Sandy leaned forward past his legal pad and reached to flip through his address book. Something Jason had said made him stop. "Tired of waiting? We were going to go in tomorrow. That's a bit too coincidental." He frowned and looked up at Seth, forlornly sitting at the opposite end of the table. He rubbed his eyes and motioned for Seth to come over.

Putting his hand over the phone, he said, "Seth, I really need your help. Can you get the numbers of these guys and write it next to their names?" He handed a legal pad and a stack of papers to him. "And put these records in chronological order, please. Thanks," Sandy said peering into Seth's face.

Seth nodded eagerly at the instructions, seemingly grateful to be helping. Back into the phone Sandy said, "That's bullshit, she's represented. Self-surrender- not unheard of here!" His eyes flitted anxiously to Seth, and he dropped his voice. "No way; that's bullshit. You guys are playing to the cameras."

Ryan's heart skipped. Would they put Kirsten in handcuffs like they had with Caleb in front of Seth and Sandy? He, too, glanced at Seth but he was absorbed with the address book.

Sandy made quick notes on the pad in front of him. "Tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. We're coming in the service doors; have someone meet us – black Range Rover."

Ryan put a mug of coffee beside Sandy and a bowl of pudding beside Seth. Seth was busy collating papers now, and Sandy was still on the phone. He sat across from them, watching them work together. Sandy had understood Seth would feel better doing something to help, and Seth for his part had never been more serious and concentrated now that it mattered. Ryan's chest tightened at the thought of anything happening to them.

Ryan couldn't sit still any longer. Sandy's conversation had delved into legal minutiae he didn't understand. He didn't want to distract Seth so he went to get himself a cup of coffee. On the counter buy the mugs he found the chocolate sprinkles where he had forgotten it earlier. He stared at it for a moment before deciding to deliver it to Kirsten. She might be more open with him.

He passed Sandy and Seth unnoticed in the dining room. He stomped up the stairs and knocked at the door. As much as he wanted to, Ryan didn't try to overhear Kirsten's conversation with her father.

Kirsten opened the door quickly, her face contorted in pain. "Sandy?" she asked hopefully. Her eyes were red, and a glass of wine was in her hand.

Ryan showed her the sprinkles and motioned with his free hand down the stairs. "I'll get Sandy?" He searched her face to know what condition she was in. Then, he saw the FroYo melting on the bed stand by a half empty bottle of wine.

Kirsten burst into tears. "It just hit me. Oh God, I really might have to go to jail." She turned her back to Ryan, put the wineglass on the table, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Dad said he couldn't talk because the phones might be tapped. I can tell he's worried, too." Kirsten's body rocked back and forth, racked by pain.

"What did your dad say exactly?" Ryan asked softly, standing by her.

Kirsten didn't answer but pulled him down to sit by her and hugged him fiercely, almost knocking the breath out of him. Ryan's hands hovered above Kirsten's back then clutched her gently. He closed his eyes, and his heart ached for her as his anger for Caleb grew.

Kirsten withdrew slightly. She closed her eyes but the tears streamed through them anyways. "Seth has grown a lot this year. He'll be alright," she whispered. Her voice caught as she said, "Aaand Sandy will take care of you boys. Oh, Ryan. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to go through this after all you've been through already." She covered her face and cried in gasping breaths.

Ryan bit his lip, not sure what to do or say. "You're not going anywhere. I swear it." The Rover's keys, forgot until now in his pocket, dug into his thigh. Caleb had some answering to do …

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Authors note: I know I have no acceptable excuse for the long delay. It was a combination of work travel (Texas but nowhere near Austin), my laptop dying (an losing chapter 7), and no motivation to write. This season just had me so down, but I'm bouncing back with the latest Trey induced angst. I promise I have a reasonable outline to the end.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

For the second time that night Ryan drove as fast as he dared. He watched the speedometer carefully - too much was at stake to be stopped for speeding. If all went as planned he'd be back in two hours with the Cohens none the wiser and Caleb all the sorrier. Most importantly, questions would be answered. Like how much of Caleb's shit would splatter on Kirsten? It was hard to believe Caleb would let Kirsten do jail time for him. Then again his dad had smacked the shit out of him and then said he loved him in the next breath; rationalizations were a dime a dozen.

He drummed his thumb against the gearshift impatiently. The image of Kirsten, devastated after talking to her dad, wouldn't leave his head. She reminded him too much of the morning his last illusions about Dawn were shattered. Whatever Caleb's excuses, Ryan would inflict enough pain that he'd never think to do it again. And Ryan would enjoy every moment of it. He cranked up Journey to block any second thoughts he might have.

Minutes later he sat in the Range Rover staring at the monster mansion. He took a deep breath, got out of the car, up the walk, and pounded on the door. He clenched his jaw and held his breath as he waited for someone to answer. Fuck probation and Child Services, something had to be done and he'd be the one to do it.

Caleb opened the door and looked behind Ryan as if there had to be others. Then he sneered, "Well, well, if it isn't little Pip. Come to give a convict a loaf of bread and a shiv? You know I should get something back for supporting you all last year." He walked away but continued to talk. "Marissa forgot some school things when she moved out. Take them to her at school."

Ryan chased after him through the entryway. "Why drag Kirsten into it?"

Caleb glanced over his shoulder and gestured impatiently with a wave for him to catch up but said at the same time, "It's an absurd world where entrepreneurs like me are arrested and delinquents can come and harass me in my home. You're lucky Julie's not home or she'd call the cops."

Ryan grabbed him by the shoulder. "How bad is it going to get? You owe it to your family to let them know what they are up against."

"I begged Kirsten to come and now it's almost too late. Don't lecture me about family," Caleb said scornfully, shrugging off Ryan. He stopped at a hallway table and opened its drawer.

"What are you doing? Damn it, answer me." Ryan slammed the palm of his hand against the wall angrily.

"Umm… Marissa's stuff." Caleb held his palms out, gesturing to stop and keep quiet. He pointed to the phone on the table, then to his ear, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

Ryan shook his head confused. "What? Are you calling the cops on me?"

Caleb snorted. "I should. Do you remember how you ended up with my daughter's family? I'll remind you - your drunken mom wanted nothing to do with you, and your father and brother had confinement issues," Caleb said sarcastically. "Blood tells; you were on the way down when my family took pity on you. That was my poolhouse you lived in this last year and a half. Remember that."

Enough empty words Ryan thought - his fist shot out and hit Caleb squarely on the jaw, snapping his head back. Caleb back-pedaled a few steps but regained his balance. His nose started bleeding, and his eyes narrowed with hate.

"You pissant thug. This is what I get for trying to help you get back to the poolhouse?" Caleb sprang in a surprisingly swift tackle for an old man. Ryan braced for the attack but Caleb had a few pounds on him and inertia, as he learned in physics, wouldn't be denied. He fell backwards tripping over a table leg. He reached back to break his fall and a sharp pain shot through his wrist as it landed hard on the marble floor.

"Okay we can do this the hard way if that's what you want," Caleb said as he hovered over Ryan. A knee came down to press against Ryan's chest.

"Kirsten doesn't deserve you," Ryan struggled to spit out as he gasped for air.

Caleb's face tightened. "No, she doesn't and worse yet you are the only chance." With a low growling menace he added, "First, we settle this because it's been a long time coming." Caleb smiled as he put more and more weight on Ryan with his knee. Two fast blows added a burning throb to the right side of Ryan's face. He rolled, pushing away from Caleb. He scrambled to his feet and wiped his lip with the back of his hand. He saw the blood on it and lunged quickly. He stopped just short of Caleb throwing the man off balance. Taking advantage of the moment Ryan punched Caleb in the stomach and followed with a quick jab to his jaw. Caleb grunted, raised his arms protectively, and retreated a few steps until his back came up against the wall.

Age and conditioning won out as Ryan found a nice rhythm. When Caleb protected his face Ryan punched his middle. "You ready to talk? If not, it's okay because I can do this all night for what you did to Kirsten." When Caleb's hands covered his injured stomach, Ryan hit him across the face. "This is for Seth"- _smack_. "And Sandy"- _jab, punch._ Pain shot through his wrist each time he led with his right, but the satisfaction outweighed the pain.

Ryan was mid punch when he realized Caleb was no longer putting up a resistance; his arms were by his side, his face was slack and he moaned incoherently.

Ryan crawled away and leaned against the opposite wall. His face was flush and he breathed heavily. "Do they have enough evidence to convict?" Ryan asked pronouncing each word carefully and slowly.

Caleb panted trying to catch his breath.

"Answer me!" Ryan moved as if to get up and strike again.

Caleb sat up, waved his hands in surrender, and nodded. "She never knew anything. They have one check to the permit clerk because my stupid secretary forgot to get me to sign before I left for Europe. She asked Kirsten to sign instead. They won't find anything else because I wouldn't do that to her."

Ryan closed his eyes and cried out in relief. Tears threatened to spill, and he felt like the weight of the world was lifted. So they were in for some bad courthouse antics, but no jail. "Yes," he said quietly to himself. He could deal with this. Sandy would ensure a trivial sentence if the evidence was that scant.

Ryan got up, anxious to leave. He couldn't wait to tell the good news to Kirsten, Sandy, and Seth. He paused and asked, "Why didn't you just tell them? They are going through hell because your pride wouldn't let you pick up the phone?"

Caleb tried to stand up, leaning against the table to rest a moment. He opened an address book from the drawer and handed Ryan a piece of paper from it. "I need a drink. Follow me."

"No, I gotta get back," Ryan said as he opened the note, curious about what Marissa might have written or what it had to do with school.

"Boy, just do what I say. Kirsten would kill me for sending you home looking like that." Actually, Caleb looked much worse. His shirt was torn and bloody, and his face was swollen red and defeated.

Ryan found himself falling back to his habit of quiet compliance now that the adrenaline rush was over. He had made his point, and the guy just looked old and pitiful. He didn't want to rub it in so he stood up and warily followed him to the wet bar, reading the note as he walked _Kiki, must destroy your Charity Events Account Ledger, NG records office, filed under 'Petty Funds-charity'. _Ryan froze, inhaled sharply and looked up at Caleb.

Caleb put his finger to his lips for silence, point around the room suspiciously, and shrug his shoulders in a question.

Ryan sat on a stool and watched dumbly as Caleb poured himself a neat Scotch. He lifted his eyebrow, gesturing at the bottle to see if Ryan wanted any. Ryan shook his head no. But he wanted the millions of questions that formed in his head answered but couldn't ask because there might be microphones around.

Caleb opened the ice bucket. "Can't get good help these days. How hard is it to fill an ice bucket? I'll run a towel under cold water for your face." He turned on the bar faucet full blast and leaned over to say into Ryan's ear, "Listen up. This place may be wired. There's an accounting of charity event expenses in the Newport Group's record office. Kirsten trusted me and kept an account and log based on my word… but it's dirty. The charity may look like bribes to certain officials. The DA's not suspicious of it yet, but if they get a hold of it… just get rid of," Caleb whispered. He turned off the faucet and handed him the towel. "Here. Put it on your face."

"Why?" Ryan asked sincerely confused. Caleb was lucky he had already kicked the shit out of him before he learned this truth.

Caleb took another drink and grimaced. "I've said as much as I need to you," Caleb said, "now just get out."

"You can't admit you have to ask the inland thug to help you clean your mess and -"

"Shut up," Caleb interrupted. "You'll help – take Marissa's notes - because you'll be back in the poolhouse faster," he said bitingly. Then added more calmly, "I'll consider your debt to me paid." He tossed down the rest of the drink and poured another. "You know a scotch is good if it **burns** on the way down. You know all about how to do that, right?" Caleb asked meaningfully.

"You fucking bastard." Ryan's hands fisted without thinking, but he swallowed his fury. Kirsten, Sandy, and Seth would be hurt no matter if Ryan exacted another drop of blood or not. And a plan is what he needed to focus on now. Then again …

Ryan reached across the bar. He jerked Caleb toward him by his shirt front. Caleb's eyes grew wide with fear and he tried to pull away. His scotch glass shook but remained in his hand.

"Kirsten will never trust you again," Ryan said quietly. Caleb's shoulders sagged. "I do love her," he said sadly.

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The drive home was slower than the drive over; he had trouble seeing out of his swollen left eye, and his wrist hurt when he had to shift gears.

He quietly unlocked the front door and crept down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the light and winced as he looked in the mirror. This would generate lots of questions that they especially didn't need. The DA was enough to worry about tomorrow.

He cleaned up as best he could, wrapped his wrist in a tight bandage, and walked back outside to sit on the porch. The air was cool and still but his mind raced. Could he really torch the place like Caleb hinted? What the hell was Caleb thinking? Ryan didn't know how to burn down a building - in the movies the smallest amount of propellant would produce a fireball, but it would be hard to get the fire to reach far enough if he couldn't get in the records room. The model home had had workers' chemicals and drop sheets all around to spread the flames. Maybe, if he had more time, he could google it or talk it over theoretically with his physics teacher.

"Ryan?"

Ryan didn't bother to look up. "Go back to bed, Seth."

"Oh-kaay… just tell me what your doing sitting on the porch at three in the morning," Seth asked coming around to sit next to Ryan, "with the shit beat out of you? Holyfield Jesus and Mighty Moses!"

"Shhh, keep it down."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. What happened?" Seth asked but Ryan remained quietly stoic. "You went on a sortie without your wingman, didn't you?" He barely gave Ryan time to answer before he repeated more forcefully, "Didn't you? Right after that long _brothers getting through it together _speech?" Seth was whispering but his fury was unmistakable.

"I… sorry… I visited your grandfather."

"Shit. Mom's going to go ape if Dad doesn't beat her to it first."

"Seth, I can help her, but I don't think I should bring you into this; it could get…" Ryan trailed off.

"Either we're really brothers or we aren't. She's my mother."

Ryan seemed to consider Seth's words before he spoke softly, "He told me I've got to torch the Newport Group record office to get rid of some evidence against her. Maybe… I could do it at night so no one would get hurt."

"Whhaaat? No, dude. With your record you'll get caught and go back to juvie or even jail now that you're seventeen. And there's always a night watchman who gets killed in these things, isn't there?" Seth tilted his head with his question. "Besides Mom didn't do anything wrong. It might be messy and slow but the wheels of justice are fair. Aren't they?" he asked more uncertainly.

"Caleb's made a lot of enemies. He got away with a light sentence and people are mad. This is their second chance. She signed things that make her look really guilty. It's got to be destroyed. The records room is locked, and tomorrow it will be taped off by the police." Ryan ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't think of anything else to do… Seth do you trust the courts with your mom's life?"

The question hung in the air as they sat listening to the night. A dog down the street barked angrily, car tires peeled off screeching loudly in the distance.

Seth shook he head back and forth. "No, I don't. And now's the time to put my Camp Tacahoe training to the ultimate test. I've got a fool proof Plan for the dynamic duo, Ryan."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Mom, Dad, let's not go there for a moment. And by _there_ I mean both a literal place and a subject." Seth shifted from foot to foot in the hallway blocking their entrance to the living room and dining room beyond that. "These past weeks have been really hard on me, and that has manifested itself in strange ways. We can only be glad that nothing happened that an ace bandage, ice packs, a few weeks can't fix."

Kirsten and Sandy stood in their bathrobes, bleary eyed and staring at Seth. "Seth, it's a big day for your mom so whatever your talking about can it wait until after I get coffee?" Kirsten put her hand on Seth's shoulder to pass him by.

Seth followed after them saying, "I'm abjectly sorry down to the soles of my high tops. Just know that I love you both and will try hard to make it up to you."

The dining room table was filled with bagels, spreads, a pitcher of juice, and a carafe of coffee. Ryan entered with a frying pan full of scrambled eggs. "So who wants egg?" he asked.

"Pile it on, Ryan. Ahh, that smells great," Sandy said inhaling deeply. Sandy had already seated himself at the table and had begun to tuck a napkin into his shirt front.

"Oh, my God. Ryan, what happened? Sandy!" Kirsten shouted to get his attention. "Are you alright?" Kirsten took the pan from Ryan and put it on the table. She pushed him into the closest chair and tilted his face to the light.

"Ryan, who did that to you?" Sandy's voice was as much upset as shocked.

"Why are you making breakfast in your condition?"

Ryan smiled ruefully. "Old family habit; we cook instead of saying things like umm, … thanks for taking me in, or I'm sorry for getting into a fight."

"Is this broken?" Kirsten asked touching his cheekbone lightly.

"I'm fine, Kirsten, really. It looks worse than it is. I was only trying to -"

Seth interrupted, "I did it. That's what I was trying to say when you guys wouldn't listen." Seth lowered his head in contrition. "I'll accept whatever punishment you think I deserve."

Sandy jerked the napkin out from his shirt. "Seth?" asked Sandy in dismay.

"I went to Ryan's room last night to talk but he wasn't there. I found him on the porch. We fought on the front lawn that's probably why we didn't wake you. Ryan suffers in silence, and you had your windows closed because it was cool, remember?"

Kirsten frowned in exasperation. "Get to the point, Seth."

"Getting there," Seth nodded. "I didn't want to invade his brooding time; he needs that so he doesn't get all meschuge. But he didn't have a jacket on - just a wifebeater and pajama bottoms. Gawd, did I just say pajama bottoms?" Seth took a breath and waved to Sandy. "Well, you know Dad - we're desert people, attuned to these temperature conditions."

"Seth!" Sandy shouted. "Why did you hit Ryan?"

"Oh … yeah." Seth's words slowed considerably. "We started out just hanging… and I thought he was talking down to me, treating me like a kid and telling me how everything was going to be alright. Well, I lost it – went nuts. I realize how wrong I was now." Seth's hound dog face looked up at Kirsten and Sandy.

"And you don't have a scratch on you Seth?" Kirsten trained her eyes over Seth appraisingly.

"No, he wouldn't fight back and that made me all the madder. So I gave him a little bit of this and a little bit of that." He threw fists out in shadow punches, but withdrew them under the table when everyone stared at him strangely. "They're a little swollen still."

"Ryan, is this true?" Kirsten asked.

Ryan's face tightened uncomfortably. He blinked from Kirsten to Sandy and back. "Well, no, not exactly."

Sandy broke in. "What exactly? Did you talk to Seth condescendingly? Did he hit you? And you didn't do anything back?"

Ryan shook his head vigorously. "I would never, never hit Seth. After what you guys and Seth have done for me, I wouldn't do that - not for real anyways. Maybe a _corrective _smack that a brother needs now and again ..." The briefest smile passed Ryan's lips before he frowned again. "I did try to tell him everything would be all right when I don't really know. Even though everything will be all right, of course." He grimaced apologetically at the contradiction. "I said I was sorry to Seth about, well, what he said, you know, me patronizing him and stuff. But we're cool now. As for hitting me, …" Ryan let his sentence trail off.

"Sandy, is he starting to sound like Seth?"

"Yes, but he still can't lie worth a damn. He's wearing a conveniently concealing sweatshirt to cook breakfast on a warm day, and I'd bet he's not favoring his left hand today because he became a switch hitter overnight; he hit somebody."

"Damn, he's good," Seth muttered under his breath.

Sandy stood up and paced the small room, a few step this way and then back. "I can't believe you don't trust us to tell us what's really going on. We have enough to deal with right now so we're tabling this for now. But know this: you guys will be sorry when we get to the truth."

Nobody said anything for a while and a gloom hung over the room. It was interrupted by the doorbell. Sandy didn't break his pacing stride as he went to the door.

From the dining room they could hear angry voices, then the door slamming shut.

Sandy returned with a red face and eyes whirling in anger. He raised his hand to stop Seth's question that was about to come out of his open mouth. Sandy picked up his cell phone, and placed a call from a number in the phone's memory.

"Mick. Sandy Cohen here. There's a reporter from Riviera magazine who's harassing us at our house." Sandy nodded into the phone. "Thanks for taking care of this – number 414 on 189th Street." He paused. "Yeah, the numbered streets. Thanks, again."

The doorbell rang just as Seth opened his mouth again.

"Who could possibly want a magazine about and for the slimy people in Newport? Thank God we don't know anyone involved in such evil enterprise." Sandy looked at them in all seriousness.

The doorbell continued to ring insistently. Sandy pounded the table and roared out in anger while Kirsten pressed her fingers against her temple.

"Sometimes I feel so frustrated I just want to beat the crap out of a guy like that." Kirsten blinked at her own words. "I didn't mean that. I'm -"

Sandy went to Kirsten's side. He said reassuringly, "Mike, a policeman buddy from my poker days, is sending a squad over for a drive by. That will scare him off."

Sandy reached for the frying pan and made a plate of eggs for Kirsten and offered another one to either of the boys. "Let's eat. It's going to be a long day."

Seth flopped his hands on the table and said, "No, I'm not hungry." Ryan shook his head to the offered plate.

"Eat," Sandy commanded setting down the plate in front of Seth. "Or I'll send you to do to the reporter what you did to Ryan," he threatened.

"I could do it … probably … depending on his size. I don't know why everyone thinks that's so crazy. I live in the numbered streets, dawg," Seth said in a low grumbling voice.

The house phone rang, and Kirsten went to the kitchen to answer it. The three guys waited for yet another shoe to drop.

"That was Tara. Gossip is spreading and she wanted to assure me she wasn't going to join them," Kirsten explained wryly when she returned.

"Mom, can I stay home today? And Ryan, too? I don't think I can face Harbor today. I don't want someone to find out some news about … you before I do."

Kirsten and Sandy exchanged glances. Kirsten nodded and said, "Okay, I don't want the teachers asking questions about Ryan before we have the answers first. But no going out. Stay in and do homework or read."

The boys nodded eagerly to all the conditions. Breakfast was had in relative calm. Kirsten went to shower and dress first. Then, Sandy rushed off for his turn in the only bathroom in the house.

Kirsten returned dressed nicely in a fashionable pantsuit colored a conservative mauve. "Seth, Ryan, is there anything you want to tell me?" she asked sitting back down at the table.

Seth and Ryan glanced at each other. Seth answered for them both, "Mom, we're more worried about you. Ryan and I worked it out. He promises to punch me back next time."

Ryan frowned but didn't say anything.

"Okay, because there's a small chance the DA might need to talk to me for a while … maybe more than a day," Kirsten added the possibility in a rush. "I want things to be good between us. You're dad's doing his best but things can get complicated." She smiled tremulously but her eyes were wet.

Seth turned white and stared in disbelief that she had made a frank admission that things could go wrong. Ryan could only venture a few worried glances their way.

Sandy clapped his hands breaking their spell when he entered the living room. "Okay, we need to get going. I've confirmed that they know we're coming," he called out.

The three joined him in the living room. Kirsten grabbed the two boys and hugged them fiercely then, she kissed them each on the cheek. "I remember I used to have to stoop down to kiss you."

Ryan and Seth seemed unable to speak; they accepted the gestures passively. Sandy also gave them quick hugs. "I'll call as soon as we know anything."

Kirsten and Sandy gathered their briefcases and things, called out reminders to Ryan and Seth to behave, and paused at the door with encouraging smiles.

When the door slammed, Seth seemed to come to his senses and pulled Ryan out with him to the porch. They caught up to Kirsten and Sandy on the steps. Seth held onto Kirsten tightly and didn't want to let her go. Ryan came up tentatively touching her on the shoulder. Kirsten and Seth opened their arms to him.

"Hey, what about me?" Sandy asked wrapping his arms around them all. They stayed like that for a few moments.

"We're going to be late," Sandy said breaking away gently. No words were said as Kirsten and Sandy slowly walked to the car. Ryan and Seth watched until long after the car could be seen.

Ryan cleared his throat. "We need to get started."

Seth nodded. In a jerky jumpstart, he went to his room and returned to the living room with a folder. Ryan joined him on the sofa. The folder was open on the coffee table before them. A floor plan of the Newport Group offices was laid out on one sheet. Numbered panels of cartoon sketches spelled out each persons' role in the sequenced plan.

"Okay, let's go over this again," Seth said. Ryan nodded.

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Author's note: Sincere Thanks to FredSmith for letting me bounce ideas around and keeping me away from dangling modifiers in the numbered streets.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

Ryan sat perched on the back of a bench as Seth paced beside it. It was nine thirty and they had been waiting, lost in their own thoughts as SUVs, clunkers, delivery trucks, and non-descript vehicles of every variety except public bus No.4 drove by. The morning rush hour was over and No.4 was scheduled for this stop every hour on the quarter hour.

"The bus is already 15 minutes late. We should have called a taxi."

"You never know if they'll come to a new address in the numbered streets," Ryan said absently. Seth climbed up the bench next to Ryan and slouched over. They were both tired from a night of planning and a morning of family drama.

A pimped out blue Mustang slowed down ominously near the bus stop. Its occupants shouted incomprehensible jeers over loud pulsating music and threw a beer bottle that barely missed Ryan and Seth. Ryan jumped up before the bottle shattered on the sidewalk behind them. His heart was pumping fast and he would love nothing more than to get into it with them, but the Mustang peeled away with a loud rev of its engine.

Seth had jumped up too, and his face was now flush with nervous energy. "Whatsup? Bad hair day? Man, it is so sad to know pods are a universal scourge." He brushed beer splatter off his pink buttoned down shirt and gray trousers.

Ryan glared down the street at the back of the car, but he knew didn't have the same effect in a bike courier's costume. The ridiculous bike tights came from Sandy's closet and an off-beat tee shirt from Seth's. Neither he nor Seth blended into the numbered streets today, but that was fine since they needed to be uptown. Ryan exhaled loudly and lifted a racing cap to run a hand through his hair. "Forget the fuckers. We've got to concentrate. You can't get caught… Kirsten, Sandy..."

"Ryan, think of that as a good omen." Ryan shifted his glare to Seth and added a squint of skepticism. "You didn't get almost whacked with a glass bottle before you broke into Harbor, did you? No, and you got caught. See?" Ryan only looked more skeptical. "Look, lightning doesn't strike twice so you – we- won't get caught this time." Seth sat down, closed his eyes and put his palms together. "Okay. Concentrating now, going into a deep meditative trance," he said.

Their one-sided conversation was interrupted as the bus pulled up. Ryan flashed his bus pass, and sat in the front row with his bag on the seat next to him. Seth fumbled getting the correct cash into the meter, then, followed Ryan. He tapped Ryan's bag impatiently. With a sigh Ryan lifted the heavy bag and set it between his feet. The bus was mostly empty.

Seth drummed his fingers on the armrest and twisted his head peering all around. He started a steady commentary about the other passengers and their comic book character potentials, then, read aloud the posters admonishing him to have safe sex and letting him know where to cash his paycheck for a modest fee. The stream of consciousness monologue went on for a few miles.

"I gotta get a bus pass, too, so I don't have to wait for the 'rent-mobile to pick me up at Harbor… so embarrassing. You know, the Greyhound to Portland had a head, but didn't have posters or gadgets." He reached past Ryan and fiddled with the cord hanging along the window. The 'Stop Requested' light turned on over the driver's head. Seth pulled his hand away quickly and feigned innocence. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous about our first mission together."

Ryan rolled his eyes and said, "Okay, okay, take a breath. We stick to the plan we worked out last night - keep it simple. No Army Ranger gestures, no secret codes, no elaborate stories, no superhero tricks. I go in with a delivery and get lost in the records' room. You make sure the receptionist is distracted and doesn't come looking for me. Buzz my cell if anyone comes near the records room. If the cops have already been there or it's locked, … we won't mess with it. And get the hell out if I get caught."

Seth nodded with exaggeration. "Yes, Mommy dearest. All the rooms have card swipe locks. But they don't usually lock the records' room, it's used by so many different people. If the cops have been there already … we'll come back with Plan B."

Before Ryan could argue, the bus lurched to an abrupt stop, throwing them forward in their seats. A foul smelling, older man boarded and walked passed them. "Oh, my kingdom and Captain Oats for a can of Lysol. Can proletarian transportation be any more brutal?" Seth turned his nose away from the aisle.

"How old is your grandfather?" Ryan asked ignoring Seth's antics.

"I dunno, somewhere between elderly and mature."

"You know I kinda lost it with the old man."

"Yeah, you've got some anger control issues," Seth said in all seriousness. Ryan glowered. "Just kidding. Not that you don't but it worked perfectly; we're going to fix Mom's case." Seth paused. "What Gramps did was beyond fucked up, but I wonder if he'll be okay." Seth bit his lip. "Not from what you did to him. I mean in jail… not that I care…"

Ryan shrugged. "I get it; he's still your grandfather. Don't worry. They separate out the old guys, plus it's a minimum security prison. If you have to go to jail, that's the kind to be in." Ryan tested his injured wrist, making a fist and turning it tentatively. "Trust me, he can hold his own."

"Yeah, I guess ruthless robber barons who clawed their way to the top have a little chutzpah."

They got off the bus and walked a half a mile or so to the Newport Group building. It was a five story, modern glass affair, befitting a developer in Orange County. They paused at the door. "This is it. Wonder Twin powers – activate!" Seth held out his knuckles.

Ryan punched Seth's knuckles. "Just be careful, Seth." He took out his cell phone and checked Seth's number.

"Kid Chino, I read you five-by-five, Ironist out," Seth answered into his cell phone.

Ryan entered the building and referred to the directory listings in the atrium. Kirsten's office, the residential department was located on the third floor. Ryan knew it but wanted to play the part. He had been there a few times usually to help pick up charity event props with Seth.

The elevator opened to the receptionist's desk. A young woman looked up eager to help. By her stood a Christmas tree decorated in tasteful ornaments. Holiday cards were posted on the bulletin behind the desk.

"I've got a clay delivery for the modelers," Ryan said pushing a clipboard and pen at the young receptionist.

She hesitated but signed. "You're not the regular courier."

"Yeah, but I've subbed here before. It's fifty pounds – it's a really short delivery or I'd use a van. You want me to take it to the supply room like I did the last time?"

"Well…" she balked, "usually I take deliveries here." The elevator opened to Seth. "Hi, I'm a CHAPS. Angus Beets with the California Highway Appreciation and Preservation Society. I'd like to talk to somebody about the importance of our highways, and let's not forget our byways. Our mission statement is to educate. And developers such as the Newport Group are key players."

"I'm sorry nobody can see you today. If you'd like to leave a card..."

"Surely, the endangered roadways are of some importance? Worth a moment of your time?" Seth scrunched up his face in earnest.

Ryan hoisted the package from the desk and smiled at the receptionist sympathetically at her situation with Seth before heading down the hallway.

Just as he remembered and Seth's floor plan showed, the record room was an interior office just behind the receptionist's desk. He poked his head in to see if it was occupied. Empty, he entered and quickly closed the door behind him. He opened his courier bag, put on rubber gloves and used a crowbar to jam the door shut. He looked around carefully. A line of standard filing cabinets stood against the left of the room, the right side held architectural drawers. He found where the 'P' files were and searched for 'Petty Funds'. He heard voices outside the room and froze to listen. The voices moved on and since he had no luck under 'P' he searched for 'Charity Event'. "Calder Account' … 'Chase Bank'. No luck. Under 'F' for Funds – no luck. He grew frantic, opening drawers at random.

He looked at his watch - 25 minutes had already passed. Frustrated and angry, he peeled off the gloves, wiped down both sides of the doorknob, and exited. He looked toward the receptionist's desk and nodded grimly at Seth who was still jabbering away at the front desk. Ryan crossed the hallway and down the staircase.

Seth came down and met him outside within a minute. Without preamble he said, "You had no luck because the cops came yesterday and moved some cabinets to Mom's office and locked it." Seth smiled knowingly. "The lovely receptionist could not resist my charms or subtle interrogation techniques. And Ironist's superpowers produced ..." With a dramatic flair he held a keycard in the air.

"Okay, I can get back in using the staircase – I taped the stairway door open just in case. You, umm, stay watch here." Ryan made a grab for the key.

"No, you're not going in without me," Seth said pulling the keycard close to his chest. He ran toward the door and made three steps before Ryan grabbed him and spun him around. They stared at each other. "You're really not going to let me help save Mom?" Seth asked angrily.

"No, yes,… of course. I just don't want you to …" Ryan grimaced and studied the sidewalk for a few moments. "Okay we go in and look together, maybe we'll find it faster. But get caught and I'll kill you."

"Deal."

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Seth peeked his head into the hallway. He gestured with Army Ranger-looking signals. Ryan ignored them and looked for himself to see nobody was in the hallway. Kirsten's office was the third door on the right. They made their way down the hall. The place was a ghosttown; business is slow when a company is under investigation. The door clicked open when the plastic electronic key was swiped.

Kirsten's office was no longer the bright designer's dream. Her desk was bare and the family photos were gone. The ficus leaves were brown and limp. Ryan closed the blinds to the glass office. Seth was already searching through the files.

"This is it! Too easy," Seth whispered urgently. Ryan went to him.

The door opened. "Oh my God, what's happening here?" The well dressed executive's hand went to her chest protectively and she gasped, "What… is that you Seth Cohen?" Ryan and Seth were on their knees by the cabinet and looked up guiltily. "Did you break in here?"

"Not guilty, Ms. Sherman," Seth said sweetly standing up and raising his hand in an uneasy greeting. "So not guilty!"

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A light bulb flashed in her face, and she blinked trying to erase the blind spot. Nervously her thumb rubbed against her ring finger hoping to rotate a wedding band that wasn't there. At the policeman's instructions she turned her left profile to the camera. This would pass, this was nothing she couldn't handle, Kirsten repeated to herself. She resolutely pushed her palm against her side to stop her hands from trembling. She had faith in the justice system, in the goodness of humanity, and in Sandy.

She had already been searched; her belt and personal effects removed. They had all been extremely civil to her, and their acts of kindness had seemed wrong when she was so frantic inside. The policewoman had reassured her she would get her wedding rings back safely, and the man with the gruff voice who had fingerprinted her had kindly advised her to wipe off all the excess ink before using the solution. Her trauma seemed lost to everyone. They must have seen shell-shocked expressions like hers in this harsh fluorescent setting everyday. Were they treating her better because they knew Sandy? If so, she didn't mind – enlightened thoughts of equality be damned. She closed her eyes to the memory of being patted down, the policewoman's firm hands running over her chest and between her legs. This was bad enough.

The policeman stepped away from the camera and began to enter information into the computer. Kirsten rested against the wall. She didn't think she could handle much more, but she had to consider the possibility of jail. Her deepest fear was falling apart and letting down her family. What did she know about hardship? She had always been Caleb Nichols' daughter and that meant, whether she liked it or not, living in a protective bubble. Even her hippy year, living out of a mail truck, she still had her family's safety net.

"Ma'am," the policeman said apologetically, jogging her out of her revelry, "I'm going to have to handcuff you to take you down to the court house. It's standard procedure."

She nodded in a quick jerky motion, and swallowed hard. He gently took her arms and put them behind her back. The snap of the handcuffs startled her even though she was expecting it. They weighed heavily and were cold. She shivered.

They walked the long underground corridor between the police station and the courthouse, the guard right at her elbow. Ryan must have been marched down a similar path with his hands in cuffs, alone without a family to trust in. She was ashamed she ever considered turning her back to him. It was easy to be a "liberal" in Orange County; it was one of the most conservative counties in the country. _To whom much is given, much is expected_ her mom had taught her. She was proud of raising money for charity. Others might only see the frivolous side but she knew the difference their checks made. Ryan was another level of commitment to ideals espoused more loudly in her Berkeley days. Sandy had asked her to put deed to words when they decided to take in Ryan and she never regretted it. She only hoped she would be strong for him now, strong for them all.

She was put in a bare room – bare save for a bench mounted into the wall. Two other women in the room didn't looked up and she didn't look at them out of respect for their privacy and for fear of offense. She took a seat between the women and stared at the linoleum floor. The cold of the stainless steel bench penetrated her to the bone but she didn't fidget. Newport debutantes did not squirm, but then again they didn't usually get arrested either or have fathers who incriminated their daughters. She allowed herself a bitter smile and thoughts of cilantro appetizers and multi-colored lights.

"Kristen Cohen!" a man shouted out.

"Key-ear-sten," she corrected softly. She took a deep breath and stood up to follow him. They entered the courtroom, and he guided her to a table by her lawyer and uncuffed her. Her eyes flew to Sandy who sat in the first row of seats. He was pale and his face was drawn taut, but he smiled reassuringly.

Her attention turned back to the front when her charges were read. It was all too real, too somber. She almost had to fight to stop from laughing. Surely everyone would see this was a terrible mistake? She hadn't bribed anybody or misused any funds. She wouldn't be blamed for not reading everything her dad put in front of her, would they?

"Not guilty, your honor," she whispered, then cleared her throat and repeated firmly, "Not guilty."

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Author's Note: Some chapters spill out without effort (chapters 1 and 9 come to mind), but this was a tough one. Kirsten's voice is impossible for me. Thanks for your patience and reviews. And huge Thanks to FredSmith, champion beta.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Ms. Sherman, I know we should have called first," Seth said reasonably, "but Mom was worried ..." He swiveled his head around the room to stop at a forlorn tree in the opposite corner. "About her ficus … and asked us to water it?" Seth ended the sentence in a question rather than a logical explanation for why they had been caught in Kirsten's office.

"What are you really doing in here? The police put these filing cabinets in here yesterday afternoon. They locked the door and said they were coming back today. The lock registers which passes were used to get in."

"Police? Whaaaat?" Seth's voice rose incredulously and he looked to Ryan for confirmation. "We don't know anything about files. Besides the ficus, we wanted to get her mug. That's it, I swear. Mom's upset about the court case and acting irrationally. We were looking for her lucky mug – the one with photo on it with the family gathered around. She won't talk about anything else; she's coo-coo for photo mug." Seth spun his finger around the side of his head. "You know, like coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs."

"Your mom and I have worked together since the beginning, and Seth, I've known you since you were seven." She paused and her face wrinkled in sadness. "I'm going to have to report this."

"It's all my fault," Ryan said as he stepped forward. "Seth had nothing to do with it. I forced him to come along. Let him go. Please," he said earnestly.

Ms. Sherman stared at him dumbly. Seth broke in, "Ms. Sherman, this is my personal martyr Ryan. Ryan, this is Mom's right hand woman, Ms. Sherman."

"Everyone calls me Elizabeth. I'm the sales' manager. I recognize you from photos now, Ryan. Kirsten talked about you a lot." She smiled at him sympathetically. "I'm not sure what choice I have but to report both of you."

Ryan closed his eyes and put his head down. Seth shook his head and said, "It wasn't right to break in but Chrismukkah is in a few days and all we wanted was to get something special for Mom."

"Chrismukkah?"

"It's the greatest super holiday known to mankind, drawing on the best that Christianity and Judaism have to offer. Highlights include eight days of presents followed by one day of many presents." Seth smiled brightly as she nodded back uncertainly. Seth continued, "This year we just wanted one nice present for Mom. But we already sold our car, lost our club membership, and never eat out. Mom hasn't been to a spa or had a facial in over a month. It's tough in the numbered streets. We were thinking to get her cooking classes maybe."

"Numbered streets!" she repeated with horror. "She said she found a small but nice house. A month without a facial? I never imagined things had gotten so bad."

Seth hung his head in shame. "I knew there was a money pouch Mom used for small company expenses … we were going to steal it."

Ms. Sherman appeared to be blinking back tears. She closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. Seth snuck a peak at Ryan and smiled quickly before he was crushed by Ms. Sherman's hug. Pulling back she went to hug Ryan as well. "What happened to you?" she asked inspecting his swollen eye.

"Ryan had to take a job in the numbered streets," Seth said when Ryan didn't answer. "He was walking home and got mugged. They took all his Chrismukkah money. His wrist is hurt, too. Show her Ryan. We can't tell Mom or Dad because we don't want to bother them with a doctor's bill."

"My wrist is fine," Ryan blurted. Seth glared at Ryan, and Ryan reluctantly nodded. "We do need money for the, umm, stuff he said like for Kirsten."

"If you call the cops about us stealing money – and that's all this was about –money, Ryan might get sent back to the orphanage. He's had a hard life on the wrong side of the tracks. If you think the numbered streets are bad you should try Chino. Oliver Twist had it easy; Ryan was abused and neglected there."

Ms. Sherman turned to Ryan with pitying eyes. Ryan quickly looked away. "I don't want to leave the Cohens," Ryan mumbled to the floor.

"Ms. Sherman - Elizabeth, we didn't want to get anyone else mixed up in our troubles, especially someone like you - Mom talked about you all the time." Seth sighed and shook his head regretfully. "You have to do what's right…"

"I wanted to call Kirsten, but she didn't seem to want to see anyone from the office. I should have insisted. What kind of friend am I?" Fresh tears threatened to flow.

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"What?" Seth asked in confusion. "You didn't talk to me the whole way home and now more silent treatment? We found what we needed, you hid it in your girly-man spandex and out the door we went. She took care of our passkey and even gave us a hundred bucks. What are you so pissed about?"

Ryan nearly vibrated with tension. He turned away and through clenched teeth said, "Seth, just shut up. I'm asking you to give me some space. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Seth said petulantly. He poked at a flame in a pan with a stick. "Pyro and I will deal with the incriminating evidence ourselves."

After a minute Seth leaned back in his lawn chair. "It's done," he said, kicking at the charred empty pan where the papers had been.

Ryan looked over and sighed. "When she walked in… We were in way over our heads. I thought I had screwed up so bad-"

"What do you mean? Mission accomplished dude!" Seth shouted.

"Seth be serious. Do you realize how close we were to ruining everything? It's not just us who would have been in trouble, your mom might as well have gone directly to jail, do not pass go. Get it? We were lucky."

"But we didn't get caught," Seth argued, "why do we have to Groundhog Day something that never even happened?"

"Every thing is so easy for you isn't it? A comic where nothing bad happens to the good guys." Ryan shook his head in disgust. "I knew it wasn't right and I let you go in there with me anyways. I messed up."

"Let it rest, dude. Seth wears big-boy pants now, and he weighed the pros and cons, decided to do something to help his mom avoid **prison**. A no-brainer, really."

Ryan peered at Seth through the hair that hung in front of his eyes. "How could you say that stuff? About your mom? Us?"

"Ryan I would have pledged allegiance to the water polo team if it got us out of there. Maybe you're really pissed because it was me saving your bacon for a change." Seth stood up and stood over Ryan, his hands resting on the arms of Ryan's chair. They stared at each other, both red faced. "C'mon, we-did-it, man. Let there be joy in Kid Chino! Is that ever allowed in your dark brooding place?"

A slow, begrudging smile formed on the edge of Ryan's mouth. "They never turn the lights off in the orphanage." Ryan pushed Seth away at his shoulders and laughed. "Get out of my grill, man. Okay, yeah, we did what we had to do. I felt my heart stop when she walked in. I saw your mom-"

Seth interrupted, "You're doing it again. But I know, man, I know." He held his hand out and Ryan grabbed it and pulled against it to get up. They pounded each others' backs. They were laughing when Sandy walked onto the patio.

"Oh, here you are. Things went well in court; she's out on her own recognizance."

The two boys went over to Sandy. "So where's Mom now?" Seth asked.

"She's fine, resting upstairs. She needs some time to herself so let's keep it down." Sandy sighed and sat at the table. "I'm going to be honest with you guys. There is talk of more checks Caleb passed under Kirsten's name… but this I know: the truth will come out. It's hard on your mom and it's only going to get harder, so let's do everything we can to help her." Sandy's face tightened but he looked into each boys' eyes seriously. Then, he clapped his hands together. "Let's not worry about that for now, I brought home some Thai for dinner."

Ryan pulled Seth a few feet away and whispered, "Let's tell him." Seth nodded and said, "Yeah, or they'll worry over nothing. Maybe Dad will change the defense strategy if he knows."

Without looking over at them, Sandy asked, "So are you two deciding to come clean about the fight you had last night?"

Ryan and Seth shuffled back over and sat at the table with Sandy. Ryan nodded, and Seth started, "Dad, we went to the Newport Group offices and got those records you heard about. Mom doesn't have to worry anymore."

"Let me get this straight. You broke into the Newport Group offices and stole a document under police custody?" he asked in amazement. He glared at the boys in turn but they stared at the ground, not daring to meet Sandy's eyes.

"Sandy, Caleb thought it was only way to help," Ryan said hoarsely.

"_Caleb thought_ – that was your first mistake. Don't either of you ever go near him again!" Sandy shook his head with growing anger. "Bad decision, bad call, guys. How many times have I said you can come to me with anything? Am I talking to potted plants?" He leaned forward in his chair. "I could have gone to the DA and worked something out. Do you realize how much you put at risk? Give it to me and I'll try to make this right."

Ryan and Seth passed guarded looks. "We burned it already," Seth mumbled.

Sandy's face turned red. He got up and walked away from them. When he returned he said tightly, "If Sherman changes her mind, Kirsten could get serious time. Is this what you wanted?" Sandy stood up and paced around the table, his hands gesticulating broadly. Finally he said, "Okay, this is what's going to happen. I'm going to tell your mom everything is all right, but she can't know what happened. If she slips up during questioning ... we don't have a prayer."

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"Honey?"

Kirsten was sprawled across their bed fully dressed. On the nightstand was a crystal highball glass with only ice left.

"We need to talk." Sandy gently touched her on the shoulder. He sighed and loosened his tie before trying again. "Honey, we need to talk."

Kirsten stirred at those words. She turned over and rubbed her eyes. "Goop news or bath?" she slurred.

"Both. Are you drunk?" he asked. "We only got home an hour ago."

"A little but I wish I were sloshed. Catch up to me," she said with a seductive smile. "There's a Stoli with your name on it." She leaned over and poured a fresh drink.

"There won't be any more incriminating evidence. I just wanted to let you know so you won't worry. We only have to worry about that one check my friend says the DA already has.

"Did you do something after we agreed you would keep yourself safe?" Kirsten sat straight up now. Her eyebrows gathered in concern.

Sandy hesitated. "No, I didn't but I need you to trust me and not ask anything else."

Kirsten stared at him considering. "Why can't I know?"

"I don't want anything to slip when they question you. People other than you or me can get in trouble."

Kirsten nodded agreeably, but it was unclear whether it was to Sandy's words or to the fresh drink she took a sip from.

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Author's Note: I thank FredSmith for another great job, and all the kind reviewers for their encouraging words.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Ryan shuffled across the kitchen floor in his slippers, bleary-eyed but highly motivated to make coffee. The Cohens may live in the numbered streets, they may not drive a Beemer or go to black tie charity events, but they upheld the highest coffee standards. He measured three level scoops of grounds into the filter, filled the carafe with bottled water, and hit the start button.

He slouched against the counter and enjoyed the rich aroma and reassuring gurgle from the coffee pot. Only the promise of drinking some moved him to a cabinet for a mug. He couldn't find any in either cabinet; Seth had forgotten his turn to empty the dishwasher again. Mildly irritated he went to find a mug, but his eye caught on broken glass in the sink. It looked as if the heavy glass had been thrown or dropped haphazardly into the hard porcelain sink. Ryan drew in a sharp breath. There was lipstick on the rim of the largest shard. Since moving he had noticed Kirsten drinking more but had always found ways to rationalize it - it was a betrayal to think that this wonderful woman who opened her house and heart to him could be anything like _her_.

He had grown up fixing Dawn's messes only so she could do it over again. The only thanks he got were the AJs of her life, and rejection before his 17th birthday. He looked at the broken glass and considered what to do. Kirsten was under lots of stress, and so were Sandy and Seth. If the drinking went back to the way it was before the court case – heavy Newport social, wasn't he just adding to their worry if he made a big deal of a temporary thing? He sniffed at the small amount of the clear liquid that was left in the still intact bottom of the glass – hard liquor of some kind- she was moving up from wine. After a moment's hesitation, he poured it down the drain and threw the glass into the garbage under the sink. He carefully picked up the smaller pieces onto a paper towel.

"A positive ripple in the Force, I feel. A pot of java you made, hmm?" Seth called out Yoda-like from the next room.

Ryan quickly threw the rest of the paper towel into the garbage and closed the cabinet door. Seth ambled into the kitchen, his bathrobe sash dragging behind him. Ryan tried to scowl and said, "Yeah, and you can have a cup after you empty the dishwasher like you were supposed to last night."

Seth dropped the voice. "Can you save the lecture? Last night's reaming wasn't enough? Wait, that didn't come out right. I meant Dad's never-ending tirade slash discussion filled my quota for the year."

Ryan ignored him and continued to unload the dishes into the cabinets. Seth leaned over and grabbed a clean mug. He filled it and took an exaggerated gulp of coffee. "Nectar of the morning gods," he declared. "Dad's lecture didn't make you feel so guilty you had to make eggs again, did it?" he asked hopefully looking around. He sighed and moved to the pantry where the breakfast cereals were kept. "I guess it's a Cocoa Puffs day. Remember no matter what Dad says," Seth turned to Ryan to whisper conspiratorially, "we had a mission. Failure was not an option."

"Your dad's at work already. He's a smart lawyer… Maybe we should have talked it over with him first." Ryan made himself a cup of coffee and shook his head. "I dunno, I just wanted to be a regular high school guy this year, Seth."

"And I just wanted to grow up this year. Believe me, Dad wouldn't have let us get past talking and she'd be in deeper shit now. I passed by Mom on her way into the head, and she looks awful. A spa day for Chrismukkah is in order. The last thing she needs any more incriminating evidence popping up. What's done is done. We need to look to the future: Dr. Kim left a message saying she expects us at Harbor today. Now, _that_ is going to be a joy – open contempt layered with a touch of assault and battery."

"You gonna be cool, man?"

Seth shrugged, but his expression was glum.

"Your bullshit saved our ass yesterday. You were awesome, and now you're afraid of some Newpsie Juniors?"

"They hated me when I was the grandson of the man who owned Newport, and now they hate me because he doesn't."

"So you haven't crossed to their dark side, is that so bad?"

"Whatever. We've established that I'm hated."

"If it helps, I'm hated, too." Ryan said supportively. "We'll face them together like yesterday."

Seth continued Ryan's thoughts, "'cause together we're unbeatable. Yes! And did we not kick ass?"

A smile formed on Ryan's lips. "Damn right, we kicked ass, and we saved the life of a ficus!"

Seth returned the smile and laughed, "I think she almost bought that one. But the photo mug was poetic." His smile faltered. "You don't think Dr. Kim asking us back is some kind of Order 66, do you?"

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Ryan wheeled his bike to the back of the house; it turned out he wasn't needed at the Crab Shack this afternoon after all. Instead of returning to school to join in the comic book club meeting, Ryan thought he might cook a nice meal for the family. He hoped Kirsten was home so he could cook with her – she seemed to like that and he could also get a sense for how she was holding up. Sandy would be picking Seth on his way home from work.

He walked into the living room. Her head was thrown back, half off the couch, with her mouth gaping open unattractively. A tipped glass lay by her on the wet stained carpet. Her body was sprawled out in an awkward position. He sank to the floor and leaned against the wall. Despite his horror he couldn't take his eyes off of her. His savior needed saving.

His promise to keep the Cohen family whole was crumbling. First he pissed Sandy off more than he ever had – for not trusting him enough to go to him, Sandy had said. Ryan had been prepared to defend the family from the outside, but the danger lived within as well. Progressing from wine with dinner, to wine whenever and alone in the bedroom, to straight vodka in the middle of the day. She always had a glass on hand to deal with bad news.

He was slipping. A year ago he would have put the pieces together. He had been watchful, he could never _not_ be watchful. They all said he was quiet and he was because that was how you observed. Up until Newport, there were good reasons he never walked into a room without checking out the vibe. Reading for signs of anyone being messed up, what kind of high they were on, were their triggers around, when to risk walking past them for the relative safety of his room and when it was safer to freeze and stay invisible until they were passed out.

He picked up the phone and dialed. "Sandy?" He hated the uncertainty in his voice. It was one thing to trust Sandy to make legal decisions but another thing to trust that he would believe Ryan that Kirsten had a drinking problem.

"Hey, Ryan. I'm at Harbor and Seth should be here any second. Should we swing by and pick you up at the Shack?"

"No."

There was long pause. "Okay. Is there anything special you wanted for dinner then?" Another pause.

"You were really pissed yesterday," Ryan said.

Sandy's tone changed to a serious one. "Yeah, I was mad, but can talk to me. Talk."

"Don't bring Seth home." Ryan sighed, and said in a rush, "Kirsten is safe, but passed out on the couch."

"Ryan, I'm sorry. I should have known this was coming." Sandy cleared his throat. "I'm on my way."

Ryan hung up and stared at Kirsten. After a few moments she stirred, closing her mouth and swallowing a couple of times. She rubbed her eyes and slowly seemed to realize where she was.

"Kirsten," Ryan said hesitantly to let her know he was there.

Kirsten tried to sit up quickly, but frowned when her body seemed to have a different idea. Slowly she sat up and squinted at Ryan. "Ryan? Wow, it's late. I must have fallen asleep."

Ryan's jaw tightened and he studied the hardwood floor with intensity.

"Oh, and I've had a spill," she said leaning over to upright the glass and straighten the pillows around her. "So careless."

He looked up. "Kirsten, please stop. Sandy's on the way home."

Kirsten's fluttering hands stilled. "I know, I know. Yeah, I'm going through a rough patch." Her eyes narrowed sharply. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Like the way you looked at Dawn - but I'm not like her," she protested.

"You're breaking my heart, Kirsten." Ryan was still across the room seated, and leaning against the wall but his soft voice was clearly heard.

"The numbered streets may not be Newport, but I think I've done okay by you, Ryan. And now this?" Her voice was harsh.

Ryan refused to drop his cool stare into Kirsten's eyes after her implied accusation.

There was a long silence before Kirsten took in a deep breath and shook her head. "You're right. I'm just so scared. What will happen to you guys if I go to prison?" Her eyes welled up, and she twisted her ring around her finger.

"I'll do anything to help. But I'm done lying that there isn't a problem. Not for my mom, not for Marissa, and not even for you."

Kirsten stared back with haunted eyes. "Your mom thought I held the family together," she whispered sadly.

They were both startled when Sandy opened the door. He went to Kirsten and put an arm around her protectively. "You alright, honey?" She nodded listlessly. "Ryan, can you go pick up Seth? He must be wondering by now. We'll clean up here." Ryan nodded. "What should I say? Anything?"

"You can tell Seth if he asks you; secrets fester. But Kirsten and I would like the chance to talk to him ourselves if he doesn't ask you first."

"I'm going to fix this. I'm just glad Seth didn't have to see me like this." Kirsten looked down at her disheveled state, the vodka bottle and spilt drink. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this Ryan, …sorry for not being strong for everyone." She twisted away and began to cry openly.

Sandy closed his eyes and pulled her close.

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Author's Note: This chapter cribs a bit from Season2, but I think it fits. And a round of applause for FredSmith, awesome beta, please.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Seth twisted the game console in his hand. Over the sound of electronic grunts and pants, Seth taunted Ryan in broken English, "Your kung fu no good. Ha! Taste monkey style on your face. Hai-ya!"

"'Tis merely a flesh wound," Ryan replied in a bad English accent.

Seth nodded in approval. "Ryan does Monty Python. Awesome."

"C'mon, ya pansy, wilt under my punishing barrage."

Seth kept his eyes on the TV but after a pause his voice dropped. "Hey, Ryan, about what they told us last night… about Mom taking the plea agreement, one month in jail and one year probation. Do you think she'll …wilt?"

Ryan's thumb paused over the controls. "One month isn't long, but I'm worried, too," he confessed.

"She seems really out of it. It totally sucks; she didn't do anything wrong!"

"Your dad said there was a risk that she might get what your grandpa got – three years- if they thought she was in on it. And a trial would be a lot of stress… maybe more than she can handle."

"Can't handle because of the drinking you mean? She enjoys a drink now and again, but come on. You know she's not like -" Seth's eyes darted to Ryan for a second. "Sorry." Ryan didn't reply, and the two boys played without speaking for a few minutes.

"Finding her on the couch was exactly like finding Dawn," Ryan said quietly. Seth stopped playing to stare heatedly at Ryan. "I don't mean…she's not –," Ryan flushed trying to explain, "look, it's what Kirsten does now that's different. She's been sober since I found her 2 days ago."

"It's weird to think of Mom as human. She's really sorry," Seth said slowly.

The two PlayStation combatants were forgotten as Ryan gathered his thoughts and Seth waited for a reply. "Sorry never lasted with my mom, but Kirsten _wanted_ to get help right away. Your dad says she's under a doctor's treatment."

Seth sighed and said, "I thought it was _our_ jobs as kids to be the ones fucking up."

"We could get a couple of tattoos or some hookers and lose our virginity."

Seth groaned, "Gawd, I remember when I said that, when you first came here. You didn't correct me. Could I have been more naïve, more stupid?"

"Man, it's been so long I got a special dispensation - they gave me my cherry back," Ryan said drolly. Seth chuckled appreciatively. They turned back to the game and sounds from the flying kicks and acrobatic maneuvers grew frantic again. "You've been practicing, Seth. Why do you get to keep the PlayStation in your room?"

"Ah grasshopper, that's an age old question. The answer, _Chino_, is only trailer trash have TVs in the living room and since we have no family room... Take that!"

"Okay, but why your room?" Ryan leaned toward the TV. "Damn, did you kick me in the balls?"

"Yeah, don't soil your armor. Remember you're not really a white knight; there are no fighting rules. Shit." Seth grimaced and rapidly pressed the punch and flying kick buttons. "My room because it's bigger and because you decided to keep the double bed to save money so there's no space there. Sucks to be a martyr, sucks to be you." Ryan scowled but didn't take his eyes from the game.

"Hey guys, a little help?" Sandy called out. Seth's room was right by the front door, and since he insisted on keeping the door open they could see Sandy fighting with an evergreen. Ryan jumped up. "Hold on."

"Bam, bam, bam. Sorry, dude, you've been served."

Ryan turned back and barked, "I may be trailer trash, but that's bullshit man." Seth waved his hand dismissively and continued playing alone.

Ryan took the tree from Sandy into the living room. He held the Scotch Pine in the tree stand while Sandy screwed in the supports. They stood back to admire it. "We could have done worse - on budget and at the last minute, no less." He smiled widely.

"Hey, yeah, it's great Sandy." Ryan put his hands into his pockets and studied the scrappy tree. Its top stood no taller than five feet and was bent over where the star should sit. There seemed to be missing branches, contributing to a sad appearance. Ryan repeated with undeserved enthusiasm, "It's really great."

"No, it looks like I stole Charlie Brown's." Sandy gestured toward it with a wry smile "Kirsten and Seth aren't used to second rate."

"They don't care about those things."

Sandy shook his head ruefully. "I know that but the whole 'man provides' thing becomes 'man provides mansion bigger than your neighbors' after you've been in Newport too long; materialism sneaks up on you. Promise me you'll never let that happen. Seek the perfect wave, Ryan."

"I don't care less about moving from Newport. I wouldn't care if we never went to another black tie event."

"What! No, I don't believe it, fashion plate like you?" Sandy said with a grin.

Ryan frowned. "I could take more hours at the Crab Shack."

"Like hell you will. And if your grades slip at all, you're quitting. No debate," Sandy said putting up his hand to stop Ryan's protest. "Okay, I know you don't care about stuff, kid. Kirsten said you didn't even want her to buy you underpants. We wondered how you were going to handle that – would you have strung out BVDs on a clothes line or gone commando?" Sandy paused for a reaction from Ryan, who offered a half-hearted smile.

Ryan persisted, "You guys are what matter. Sandy, you really listened to me about Kirsten - thanks." Ryan grinned shyly. "Actually it's nice to know you guys aren't perfect; I feel like I can fit in."

Sandy shook his head. "For better or worse, you're in. And _I _am thanking _you_ for calling me. She's admits there's a problem, and we're glad it we caught it before anyone got hurt." Sandy clapped Ryan on the back as he went to the tree and tried to bend the crooked branch to stand up. Ryan opened a box of lights and began to untangle them.

Seth joined them in the living room. "Good grief, Charlie Brown. That is one sickly tree."

Sandy raised his eyebrows knowingly at Ryan. "The pine cone doesn't fall far from Chrismukkah tree." He turned to Seth and said, "Get with the program, son. We're going to have the best holiday ever to carry your mom through this. Got it?"

Seth sat on the couch and nodded somberly.

"Start thinking about gifts. Remember, we're not _buying_ things this year," Sandy added.

Seth rolled his eyes at the thought of homemade gifts. Then he held his hands in the air and tapped his fingers against each other gleefully. "Oh yes, I have the best idea. _Snoopy_, can teach us the happy dance around the Charlie Brown tree for his gift." Seth and Sandy smiled at each other, approving the idea.

Ryan crossed his arms and scowled. He said resolutely over their laughter, "That was a long time ago, something I did for Theresa." There was an awkward pause at the mention of Theresa.

Sandy clapped his hands together and changed the subject. "Alright, we need to dress this tree with baubles, turn it into a blueblood's dream of a Blue Spruce. Where's your mom? She's got the WASP eye for our Chrismukkah try," he said with assurance.

Seth's enthusiasm deflated. "She said she's resting upstairs but, Dad, she been ..."

Sandy went and sat beside Seth on the couch. "Let's just say it - she's been abusing alcohol, probably self-medicating her depression. The case, Caleb, have been hard on her. But she knows she has a problem, and we can only support her as she helps herself." Sandy turned to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. "Hey, speaking of the lady of the manor... we were just about to come get you. We're going to decorate the Chrismukkah bush." Kirsten looked pale but she smiled brightly.

Seth got up and guided her to the couch. Her eyes were bright and clear, but she seemed fragile; there were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was freshly combed but pulled back tight into a simple ponytail. Her matching sweat suit seemed to hang loosely on her. "Hey, Mom, don't you think Dad mugged Charlie Brown for his tree?" Seth asked in an overly hearty voice.

"It will be fine once I get the star with the missing point on top of it," Sandy said rising from the couch to find the star.

"It's nice," Kirsten said to Seth. Seth's face fell. "Mom, are you listening? Charlie Brown's trees are ugly not nice." Kirsten nodded with a bland smile. Seth sucked in his lips and looked away. He mumbled, "Forget Chrismukkah this year. Everything is messed up."

Ryan's eyes flashed from Seth to Kirsten with worry. "Come on, it's time to celebrate, man. Your mom doesn't have to go to … go away until after Chrismukkah … so let's be glad we can be together a few more days," Ryan said in an uncharacteristic rush.

"Celebrate?" Seth asked incredulous.

"Seth," Sandy said warningly and glanced at Kirsten. Their interchange didn't seem to register with her; her eyes were unfocused on a random spot on the carpet.

Ryan glanced at Seth and Sandy's fallen expressions. "If you guys are nice I'll teach you the happy dance," he declared in a forced, animated voice and gestured with his head to Kirsten.

"What? You just said before …" Seth looked at Kirsten and nodded in understanding. "Okay, okay. Is it like this?" Seth stood up and pedaled his legs like an egg beater. "I just move well," he said modestly. They all looked to Kirsten, hoping for an improvement from her apathy. Seth sighed and sank back onto the couch when she didn't react and grumbled, "I don't really believe you were Snoopy."

"Still waters run deep," Ryan said sagely.

"That settles that," Sandy said loudly, "Ryan will teach us the happy dance, Seth will teach us how to Ollie, and I humbly offer a primer on the five required parts of a simple contract. Kirsten …?" He looked over to the couch. Kirsten was staring vacantly out the window. "Kirsten?"

She shook her head slightly. "What's that?"

He went and sat next to her on the couch, and held her hand. "We were hoping you could take us on an architectural tour of Newport or something – as your Chrismukkah gift." Kirsten frowned as if she were trying hard to concentrate on Sandy's words but found it beyond her. "I was also thinking about a vacation when all this is over. And that's going to be soon, honey. Ryan's never been to Hawaii, where the surf is rad, the spas top notch, and the bikinis skimpy – that's strictly for the boys, of course."

"That sounds wonderful. Really great." She smiled broadly and looked at each of them. The effort seemed to tire her, and she rubbed her forehead wearily.

"Guys, give us a minute, guys," Sandy said.

Seth and Ryan silently stood to leave. Sandy followed them out to the hallway. Seth's voice cracked, "Dad she can't go anywhere; you have to get this case to trial. Who are we kidding?"

"Trust me, she'll come around. It's still new." Sandy returned to the living room and Kirsten.

Seth shook his head in defeat and asked without enthusiasm, "Ready for another beating?" Before Ryan could reply, there was a knock on the door. Ryan raised his eyebrows questioningly. Seth shrugged.

Ryan opened the door to find Caleb. His face showed only the faintest trace of bruises. He looked at Ryan with distaste. "I'm here to see my family, get things straight with Kirsten. Make yourself scarce."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Seth pulled the door open wider, stepping into view.

"Good to see you," Caleb said pulling Seth into a hug. Seth's arms remained by his sides. "Grandpa?" he said unhappily.

"Where's your mom, Seth? I need to see her." Without looking back he barged into the living room and surveyed the scraggly tree and holiday clutter in the small room with a pinched expression.

"Caleb? You have some nerve showing up here," Sandy said standing up.

"I can't talk to my daughter?" He looked inquiringly at Kirsten sitting motionless on the couch. "Kiki, I came to say goodbye. I report in tomorrow."

Kirsten dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples.

"Jesus, what the hell's happened to you?"

"You dragged her into your mess, and now she's paying for it," Sandy barked. "Haven't you heard? In a few days she's-going-to-jail-for-a-month. Are you happy with yourself now?" His words were bitten off accusingly.

"Kiki, I never meant for this to happen. All I ever did, I did for my family. You, Hailey, your mom never wanted for anything."

Sandy's face was red and he nearly roared, "The newest toys, and latest the designer dresses, membership to the best clubs - worth prison time? Instead how about a simple word of praise once in a while? Is that so hard? Or how about showing up at her wedding?"

Caleb sneered. "You stay out of this, Sanford. There was a typhoon."

"We rescheduled four times," Sandy said in disgust.

"This would all be fixed if that delinquent you took in did what I ask him to. Did you turn yellow?" Caleb yelled at Ryan.

Seth answered instead, "Grandpa, what are you talking about? I helped Ryan; it's done. Get off his back! We did it without getting caught."

Kirsten raised her head sharply. "What are _you_ talking about?"

Seth squirmed uncomfortably but said, "Grandpa asked Ryan to burn down the Newport Group, but we decided to steal the incriminating document instead. But don't worry, it worked."

"Dad, you asked Ryan to burn down the Newport Group? He could have been hurt, gone to jail, too. How dare you …" Kirsten gasped. She stood up, her eyes flashing and her body tensed in anger.

"Forget about that boy. Why did you accept the plea bargain if you weren't worried they would find my book?"

Sandy ignored Caleb. "Kirsten, this was what I couldn't tell you about because I was worried it would get the boys in trouble. And the doctor said not to upset you…"

"Doctor?" Caleb asked interrupting Sandy.

"You're how Ryan got hurt!" Kirsten said as it dawned on her what had happened. "My own father raised a hand to my son," Kirsten said in disbelief.

"I never put Seth in harm's way. Your delinquent dragged him into it. And what kind of lawyer are you? If there is no more incriminating evidence coming out why did you settle for jail time?" Caleb gestured angrily at Sandy.

"I accepted the agreement because in some way, I am culpable, Dad. I should never have trusted you after Balboa Heights, Uncle Shawnesy. I was thinking of my family when I accepted. We need to put this behind us. I'm thinking of them now as I'm putting you behind us - leave and don't contact us again."

"I know I messed up badly, Kiki, but I'm your father. We can't leave it like this." Kirsten stood there but closed her eyes to him. His face drained of color, but after a moment the shock turned to anger. "You're crazy. Is that why she needs a doctor?" Caleb asked looking to Seth, then Sandy.

Kirsten's hands were drawn into tight fists. She said with controlled fury, "All I ever wanted was to make you proud. All you've ever done is make me doubt myself; I've been drinking, Dad."

"You've been drinking? Oh my God, just like your mom, the least little upset and she was at the sauce."

"Think what you want of me, but I'm glad you're going away so you can't endanger my family anymore."

"Kirsten, listen to me!" Caleb stepped toward her and shook his finger angrily at her.

Sandy put his arm around Kirsten and drew her toward him just as Ryan stepped between Caleb and Kirsten.

Caleb sneered, "Want to go another round with me, punk?"

"Lay a finger on anybody and I'm calling the cops," Sandy shouted, "Now get the hell out." His face was red, and a vein throbbed across his forehead.

"Kiki?" he asked trying to see her around Ryan. She turned away from him and he looked to Seth who had been standing to the side. "Seth?" Seth drew his lips into a thin line and stepped next to Ryan. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at his grandfather.

"My family is turning against me for a punk kid? Does anyone remember this two-bit delinquent burned down my house, got Marissa hooked on dope, and that Latina girl pregnant? Now it seems he couldn't keep his mouth shut and do us a simple favor on his own." Caleb shook his head and laughed, "He's an inland thug for heaven's sake!"

Kirsten opened her mouth wide and screamed an incoherent, lasting, primal yell. Everyone was stunned into a silence and turned to blink at her. Her face was flush when she said with an unmistakable fury, "Ryan, his name is Ryan, Dad."

"Hey, Kirsten, it's alright. You don't have to," Ryan said softly, his head lowered.

"Yes, I do. I should have a long time ago. You deserve more respect than my dad does. I should have defended you better from the start. I'm sorry." She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. Then she wheeled on Caleb. "I won't say it again. Please leave now."

Caleb sputtered, opening and closing his mouth without finding any words. They stood there for a few moments, Caleb staring at his grandson and this boy they called family united against him. He looked between them to see his son-in-law holding his daughter protectively, her own gaze firm and unyielding. Caleb's shoulders sagged and he turned away.

Seth ran to open the door for him. Caleb paused there, looked back and took in a deep breath before he straightened his shoulders and exited stiffly.

Nobody seemed sure what to do when the door slammed. A slow smile grew on Kirsten's face.

"Don't you two think you're off the hook," she said, "What were you thinking? What you did was so illegal, so stupid!" She pulled the boys together so she could hug them both at once. Letting go, she said, "We have so much to do in two days. We have to get the stockings up, light the menorah, fix this sad tree, put up lights – we're using loud carnival-colored ones, … Seth, Ryan go put on those nice, bright sweaters for the Chrismukkah photo."

"Go," she said when they stared at her dumbly. Seth hugged her for a second time. Sandy joined them, pulling Ryan in, too. "Welcome back, dragon lady," Sandy said.

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Author's Note: Thanks for all the considered reviews. They are a real encouragement when the writing is tough. Big thanks to FredSmith for helping me overhaul this chapter drastically - and for the better.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**Ryan**

He turned over and slapped the alarm clock to stop its incessant bleating. Just a few more minutes of quiet he thought happily falling back into bed and rubbing his face into the pillow. Then he froze and his eyes popped wide open. Today Kirsten had to leave for the Dublin Federal Criminal Institution near Oakland. He knew he had failed his pledge to keep her safely under his watch, but strangely he wasn't too worried about her. She was tough. Since Caleb's rousing visit two days ago Kirsten had been fine – actually happier than she'd been in a long while.

All the Cohens were tough, maybe not barroom-brawl-tough but tough how it mattered; Seth had come through when the sales manager caught them in Kirsten's office, and Sandy dealt with his "messing up" over the last year without lifting a hand in anger. Part of his brain knew without question that would never happen but it was still hard to even imagine a huge family blowout without booze, bloody fists, or cops being called.

It wasn't just Ryan on watch for the whole family anymore, and knowing that made it easier. The Cohens looked out for each other – and that included Ryan. When Kirsten ripped into Caleb about Ryan, everything Kirsten and Sandy had been saying over the past year clicked. They had said over and over they were there for him, but it was different when he heard it shouted so publicly. And Ryan knew better than most it's hard to turn on family even if they are always letting you down, but she did it for him. He was a part of this wonderful family. His chest tightened and he lay in bed enjoying the thrilling thought.

He hustled through his normal morning ablutions - he wanted time to cook up the greatest breakfast ever. They teased him about the bacon and eggs breakfast routine, but he knew everyone enjoyed it. They were easy to please, a simple breakfast beat getting a job to pay house bills or returning a hot car for your brother any day of the week.

He opened his door. Kirsten and Sandy were down the hallway. "No, absolutely not," Kirsten said with flat conviction. "No, no visits. I'll be too busy with my tennis and Tivo," Kirsten said with a wry smile and laughed. Sandy added his rumbling laugh. It was a relief to hear her laughing. Ryan had to admit he was still a little worried about her despite the last couple of great days, and he wouldn't breathe normally again until she came back in a month.

"Ryan," Sandy said breaking away. Kirsten smiled at him and said, "You're up early."

They entered the dining room together to find a basket of bagels, a plate of cream cheese and lox, and a carafe of coffee set on the table. "French toast and bacon hot off the grill," Seth said lifting a plate in his hand.

"I always make bacon and eggs for special breakfasts," Ryan said indignantly.

"Yeah, except no."

Ryan glared for show but didn't really care. If Seth was willing to share his parents Ryan could share the breakfast glory. "I'd better be the taste tester, we don't want any trips to the hospital. Pass me your poison, Seth." Only in this family do jokes on a day when someone is off to jail seem right.

**Seth**

He took the high road and simply smirked at Ryan. Less is more he always said but rarely did. He handed Ryan a plate of his high cuisine and sat back with satisfaction.

"The bacon is all curled up. I guess I'll have to give you some pointers," Ryan said in a long-suffering voice. He sniffed it with suspicion before he took a bite and declared, "Well, we might not die."

"Ryan, are you our keeper? Because you can leave that to me," his Dad said jokingly, sitting down. He reached for a bagel instead. "Seth, leave the bacon to the goyim."

Seth tilted his head back and opened his mouth to laugh silently at his Dad's lame joke. In a point of fact, he had to concede the middles of the bacon strips were darkened black and the ends were this side of completely cooked. Okay, maybe he still had something to learn from Ryan.

His mom came him and tried to kiss him on the head, but he tilted his cheek to her. She smiled and kissed him there. Ryan gave them a strange look, and his mom went by Ryan too and kissed him. Ryan looked down slightly embarrassed but Seth knew Ryan was really beaming inside.

"I'm expanding my barbequtionist's skills," Seth said modestly as everyone dug in - into the toast anyways.

"The French toast is scrumptious, Seth," his mom said in her mom-like way, "slightly crispy on the outside, moist inside."

Seth stared at his mom; he was scared for her. How could she be so mom-like before she went to jail – in a matter of hours? Just the idea made him scream in his head like the Munch painting, but she seemed less freaked out than he was when he went away to Camp Tacahoe. She'll be fine, Seth kept repeating to himself. But if she gave the secret sign, Ryan and he were so there to break her out.

Seth noticed with pride that the French toasts were all gone. "Pass me a bagel, Dad. Schmeared."

**Sandy**

"Okay, but you guys have got to listen carefully so you can teach your own sons the fine art of schmearing," he said with professorial pedantry. "In the far away future," he added frowning at them both. Stalling, they were all stalling with the jokes. He snuck in a glance at the clock. It was time to go, to break up this beautiful family tableau. He hated to do it but it would be a bad idea to show up late.

"We've got to go," Sandy said with a studied nonchalance. "Pass me a kiss, honey." As he stood up, he leaned over and goosed her in the rump and swallowed her yelp in a kiss.

"Oh, and then my image was ruined," Seth grumbled turning away.

**Kirsten**

So it was time. She had sat back all through breakfast drinking in the sights of her beautiful family. Now she tried to breath evenly, and smiled as naturally as she could. There was little she could do for them now, except alleviate their worry. Sure, she was scared and sure, she would love to bury her head in the sand. The near memory of a bottle of vodka's numbing effect was inviting. But she knew better now; that was temporary and she'd be okay without the crutch. What she needed now was to reassure them that she would be okay.

"No, glum looks, guys. This is my last breakfast at home for a short while, not my last supper, okay? Think of me at a free drying-out spa." She smiled, looking into each of her son's eyes, but they didn't laugh. She understood. They didn't have to pretend this was going to be easy, but she knew this family would make it through anything.

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_a day later…_

Sandy rolled over in bed and reached his hand out. He stopped grasping when he realized she wasn't there. He traded his pillow for hers; the familiar smell helped only a little.

_a few days later…_

The rough, starched jumper chaffed her neck red, but the sharp, institutional smell that burned her nostrils just yesterday had become too usual to notice.

Kirsten had just learned she would be assigned to kitchen duty starting tomorrow. Sitting in the loud cafeteria she stared at her lumps of lunch. The brown was supposed to be chocolate pudding, and it made her think of Seth. She missed his laugh, Ryan's shy smile, and Sandy's soft, lingering caresses. She closed her eyes to forget where she really was, only to be startled awake by the alarm bell announcing the end of lunch. A sea of women surrounded her. One of many, she was carried off in their eagerness to begin courtyard time.

_two weeks later…_

"If you're sure we can't come, Dad…" Seth handed Sandy Captain Oats after staring hard into the horse's eyes. "I'm telepathically giving him instructions to keep Mom safe," he explained.

Ryan undid his choker and handed it to Sandy as well. "I had put this away to fit in Newport. And I had fished it out for the numbered streets to feel … to help. Now I wear it and I don't care what anyone thinks. Maybe it will help her. I know they don't allow jewelry but maybe she can use it as a bookmarker, or something," he said shrugging. Seth stared at Ryan, seeming to be stunned at his great number of words.

Sandy couldn't seem to answer either of them. His face was flush and he looked both pained and proud of them. His head bobbed up and down, and he left the house in a hurry. Visiting hours were strictly observed.

_a month later-_

They stepped into the house with the smell of broiling crab cakes and other wonderful cooking smells. "Rosa?" Seth asked sniffing the air. Sandy had picked them up from Harbor after work.

Kirsten came rushing to the front door. Ryan hung back and let Seth smother her in a hug first. But less than a moment later they sucked in Ryan and Sandy. They were all laughing, too happy to say much. Ryan studied her every gesture and sound, making sure she was okay. The grip of her hug was tighter, she had lost a bit of weight, her hairstyle had grown out, but she beamed contentedly.

"Mom, did you learn to cook?" Seth asked incredulous.

She shook her head. "They put me on kitchen duty but then kicked me out. I couldn't even make prison grade food," she laughed. "I wouldn't ruin our first dinner together. I'm watching over my boys again; I got take out."

THE END

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Author's Notes: I didn't follow my own rule of having a definite outline and that slowed some chapters down. The characters just wouldn't follow me when I tried to follow my original ideas. Maybe it's because I keep sending them off to jail in my stories.

I want to offer my sincere, and big thanks to Molly for helping me with the earlier chapters, and FredSmith for the later chapters. They offered support when I desperately needed it – when the storylines didn't make sense, and the dialogue was stilted.

Also I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to the generous reviewers who took their time to read and comment on my story. They made me see things in new ways. Sometime I feel strange putting so much time into fanfic but the reviews make it worth it. And writing is so much fun. Often it feels like a crossword puzzle with infinite degrees of freedom, and the only constraints are the ones I love – the OC characters and their world.


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